


the spectres vain

by QuickYoke



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Ghost Sex, Horror, Oral Sex, Possession, Spoilers, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27053092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickYoke/pseuds/QuickYoke
Summary: She had said before, ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ and now years later she wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Love them.
Relationships: Dani Clayton & Viola Lloyd, Dani Clayton/Jamie, Dani Clayton/Viola Lloyd/Jamie
Comments: 168
Kudos: 993





	1. Jamie I

> _ “What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be _
> 
> _ alive. Something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead. _
> 
> _ A painting, for instance. An abstraction.”  _
> 
> __ _ \- 'landscape with fruit rot and millipede’, Richard Silken _

* * *

* * *

For as long as Jamie had known her, Dani had never liked having her picture taken. Whenever a camera would be pointed in her direction, it were as though the lens were the long blued barrel of a rifle. She would flinch and try to cover it up with a laugh or cough or some other small action -- like scratching at her neck -- even as she continued ducking her head to one side. 

Jamie lowered the polaroid. The flash had already gone off and the print was sliding out. She grabbed the end and yanked it free. “Sorry,” she said with a grimace, even as she waved the film like a fan in a futile attempt to make the slip develop faster.

“It’s okay,” said Dani.

“I’d just like some more pictures of us to go around the apartment, you know?” 

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. I get it.” 

Jamie stopped fanning herself with the square slip of film and was now squinting down at the image that was beginning to take form. “Christ, Poppins.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Dani asked. And despite her earlier camera-shyness, she had lowered her hand from her throat and was now peering at the film with a look that was equal parts curious and apprehensive. 

Jamie flipped the film between her fingers to show her. “You move too much,” she said with a grin, followed by a recriminating cluck of her tongue. 

With a furrow of her brow, Dani shuffled over and leaned forward to get a better look. Jamie sidled closer so that they could study the photo together, their shoulders brushing so that Jamie could feel the scratchy wool of Dani’s jumper against her upper arm. 

The film took form slowly. The grey mistiness parted like a veil being lifted over a bride’s head to reveal the Dani of just moments ago. She had been caught mid-motion. The effect was that of two figures blurred together -- one standing straight, the other ducked down and clutching her hands to her chest, arms lifting to ward off an incoming blow. In the odd half-light of the morning, she almost looked like two entirely different people, their faces smudged beyond all recognition.

Jamie sighed and handed the photo over. “Ah, well. I tried.”

Dani took the film in both hands, pinching the white edge between thumbs and fingers. “I’m sorry,” she breathed down at the image. 

“Nah. It’s all right.” Jamie nudged Dani’s shoulder with her own, and winked. She waggled the camera in her other hand. “Just means I’ll have to take loads more.”

Lowering the photograph, Dani rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. 

* * *

They went on a honeymoon. At least, that’s what they called it, though there was no official wedding per se. Just a party, a gathering of their scant few friends and none of their family. The moment Jamie had mentioned her own shithead family in relation to the party, Dani’s face had gone pale as a sheet, and that was that. No family allowed. Especially not Dani’s. 

Honestly that suited Jamie just fine. There was nobody to make a fuss. Nobody to ruin the reception party -- no more than a private dinner affair with too much wine and champagne and cheap yet filling finger-food. The kind she could always make room for even after she was full. The perfectly boring not-wedding, to be honest. And Jamie was always unflaggingly honest. 

The honeymoon wasn’t more than a mountain retreat to a cabin nestled in autumnal woods. A small place. No sprawling manor house here. Just a private retreat where they could be alone together for a week or two.

Driving up to the cabin, it wasn't much, but it was still exactly what Jamie had imagined.

Except for the lake. They hadn't mentioned that in the brochures.

"Fuck," Jamie swore, slaming on the brakes and throwing the car into neutral, where the engine idled. "Shit. I'm so sorry. They didn't say -"

"It's fine," Dani insisted, but her eyes were fixed upon the body of water.

"We can go somewhere else. C'mon. I'll take us back to that town an hour back, and we can -"

Dani grabbed her hand where it gripped the steering wheel and squeezed. "Hey," she said softly, and she pulled her eyes away from the lake so she could look over at Jamie and offer a reassuring smile. "It's okay. Really."

In this light, her mismatched eyes were even more apparent. The early afternoon sun slanted across her face so that she was haloed by the gold of her hair, and her eye was blue and clear as water. The other was another matter. Jamie tried not to look too hard at that one. That wasn't her.

Breathing in deeply, Jamie nodded. She looked back out over the dash and through the windscreen. Their interlocked fingers were reflected in the tilted glass. She could feel Dani stroking a cold thumb across her knuckles. Her hands were always cold these days. Not like before. Now, Jamie had to be heat enough for both of them.

"All right." Jamie grasped Dani's hand, lifted it up, then brought it gently back down atop the steering wheel. Then she slipped her hand free and turned the key in the ignition. The engine puttered to a halt. Jamie whirled the keys around one finger so that they clicked snugly against her palm. She offered Dani a puckish grin. "Let's go, then. I'm dying to see what mediocrity awaits us inside."

Dani gave a huff of laughter. "I'm sure it'll be lovely."

But Jamie was already kicking open the door and stepping out of the pickup. Leaves crunched under the worn soles of her boots. The air was brisk but the sun was warm. The lake steamed in the afternoon light. Licks of white curling from the smooth glassy surface. Jamie glared at the picturesque scene in suspicion as she began hauling their luggage into the cabin.

Water was trouble. And trouble was the last thing she wanted on a trip like this.

* * *

As it turned out, she had worried herself over nothing. She never so much as caught Dani staring wistfully over at the nearby lake, only a stone's throw from the steps leading to the back entrance of the cabin. They didn't talk about the water at all, and it was too cold at this time of year to be so bold as to venture for a dip.

Indeed, the only things Dani seemed to want to do was relax and eat and fuck, which -- all things considered -- Jamie was not going to complain about. 

On the second day she wandered into the cabin after a walk to find Dani lying in the sunshine draped across the floor of their little cabin. Dani arched against her clothes, as if luxuriating in the feel of fabric against her skin. When she heard Jamie's footsteps, Dani opened her eyes and tilted her head back against the rug to look at her.

Awash in light, she was magnetic. Like something painted. Jamie could feel her own hand drifting to the camera hanging from her neck from when she had been taking pictures of the local flora on a short walk outside. She snapped a picture, the camera reeled noisily, and Dani blinked muzzily at her.

"Come here," Dani murmured, stretching out her arms.

And, well. Jamie couldn't resist an invitation like that. She set the camera aside and let herself be drawn down to the floor for a tumble. Dani tasted like warmth and sunlight, and Jamie was so caught up in the feel of her skin that she didn't even remember she had taken a photo. 

It wasn't until later that evening, when she emerged from the only bedroom to fix them the dinner they had forgotten to eat -- wearing naught but a long flannel that brushed her thighs -- that Jamie saw the square slip of self-developing film forgotten on the kitchen table. She changed route from the fridge and wandered over. Tilting her head to one side, she plucked up the picture and tugged it free from the polaroid. 

The picture had long since developed, but still the image was slightly out of focus. It was light-drenched and overexposed. The brightness had washed out any distinguishing features, until Dani was a mere human shape sprawled across a patch of pale glass, like a body floating on water. 

Lips pursed, Jamie chucked the picture into the bin and got on with making eggs and beans on toast for dinner. The scent of food drew Dani out. Like a sleuthhound she was. Her hair was glorious and sex-mussed. She was wrapped in nothing but a blanket. She came up behind Jamie and draped her arms over Jamie’s shoulders. 

Jamie flipped an egg in the sizzling pan. “You’re going to set that blanket on fire.”

“Mmm,” said Dani, kissing at Jamie’s neck, pressed all up against her back. 

Tilting her head to one side, Jamie set the frying pan onto a cold burner and turned all the dials to zero. Her smile faded. Her brow furrowed in confusion. She could clearly see Dani’s hands clasped at her collarbone, yet Jamie could feel another set of hands settling over her hips. Cold fingers dug in and gripped her into place.

Dani dragged her teeth against Jamie’s neck and whispered, “Come back to bed.” 

There was no denying her when she used that voice. Jamie felt herself being pulled away from the stove top by two sets of hands, like an unwary comet being sucked into a wicked undertow by some greater body’s gravity.

* * *

It was on a night when it was Dani's turn to cook that Jamie pulled out a box from their luggage. It was an opulent navy blue with a gold logo emblazoned across the top. She hid it behind her back as she approached the cabin's little kitchen. The sound of sizzling greeted her, and a great bubbling of vegetables or perhaps a cauldron. Dani had her shirtsleeves haphazardly rolled up beyond her elbow. Her back was to Jamie, and she didn't so much as glance around when Jamie approached.

"Dinner will be ready soon. I promise," Dani said while stirring the pot. "Just a few more minutes. Hey, can you set the table for me, please?"

"Can't. Sorry. My hands are full."

"Huh?" Dani shot a distracted look over her shoulder at Jamie, turned back to the stovetop, then did a double take.

In Jamie's hands the box was nestled, held out like a propitiation. Dani nearly dropped the wooden spoon onto the ground, and had to turn back and fumble with it and all the dials to turn everything off before she could whirl back around, gripping the front of her oil-flecked apron in both hands.

Jamie opened the box to reveal a golden watch with an ivory face and gold-link chains, and Dani sucked in a sharp breath at the sight.

"Oh, you shouldn't have."

"Yes, I should've."

"But I -" Dani released the front of the apron and gestured helplessly around them. "I didn't get you anything."

"Sure, you did." Jamie held up her left hand and wriggled her fingers. The ring there was impossible to miss.

Dani laughed. "That's different."

"Maybe." Jamie took the watch out from its white velvet pillow and set the case aside. Reaching out, she gently lifted Dani's hand and began draping the metal links over her narrow wrist. "But you make me very happy. Every day. And sometimes -- just once in a while -- I want to give you nice things that I can barely afford. Because capitalism, probably."

At that, Dani snorted with laughter. Even so she had gone all flushed and pink with pleasure. She kept ducking her head and looking away while Jamie locked the links around her wrist, as though she were embarrassed to be receiving such an expensive gift. When Jamie was done and tried to step away, Dani grabbed her gently by the hand and pulled her back closer.

It felt like an unspoken dare, the first time they had kissed. This felt exactly like that. Jamie had already dared to love, and Dani -- well, Dani was bold as brass, really. Her hands drifted to Jamie's waist, pulling them flush together as the kiss deepened.

Smiling, Jamie pulled back just slightly. "What's the rush? I thought you were making tea? Or aren't you hungry?"

Dani nodded, but her eyes were transfixed. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Dani always seemed to be hungry these days. Hungry for food. Hungry for sex. As though she were eating and fucking for two appetites instead of merely her own.

Jamie didn't complain when Dani brought their mouths back together. She stumbled backwards and allowed herself to be guided, step by step, into the nearby bedroom until the backs of her legs hit the mattress, and her knees buckled, and Dani was perched atop her.

Jamie tugged the apron strings free, while Dani fumbled with the button of her jeans. They had done this a hundred times before, and more even. Seven years since Bly, and still not enough time in the world. Still, Jamie could feel her heart race in her chest even as a familiar warmth pooled in her stomach as Dani's hand slipped beneath the waistline of her jeans. 

She was so caught up in the moment -- the shared gasp between them -- Jamie hardly noticed the way Dani’s touch seemed to linger even after she had moved her hands or mouth or tongue. The slide of her touch followed by a colder phantom caress. 

It must have been the glide of gold links. Nothing more.

* * *

All through the week and the weeks following, Jamie would spy Dani running her fingertips across the gold watch in a somewhat nervous fashion. Until eventually over time her wrist gleamed with every turn in the light.

* * *

Dani claimed to have never ridden a horse in her life, but it was clear from the moment she first swung herself into the saddle that she was a natural.

“Am I missing a strap here? And are my feet supposed to be so low?” Dani asked, shuffling around in the saddle and frowning down at the stirrups. “I feel like they should be higher, or something.”

“That makes two of us,” Jamie grumbled.

“Huh?” 

“Bloody western saddles.”

“Ah,” Dani said, though she still looked confused.

Sighing, Jamie explained, “English style has the stirrups a little higher. Especially if you’re jumping. That’s why you think you need an extra strap. To hold onto. You sure you’ve never done this before?”

Dani shook her head. “No. Never.” 

“Huh.” Jamie gave Dani a once-over. Her form was impeccable. She had shortened the reins to perfection so that the horse’s neck was arched for pageantry. Shrugging, Jamie tugged at the reins, her own dun-coloured horse reluctantly turning its head. “This way, then.”

Dani’s dark bay trotted after to catch up so that they rode side-by-side. “Where are we going?”

“Dunno. Anywhere.” Jamie ducked beneath a wayward branch. “The man said we would come across a split in the path in about twenty minutes. We can follow the trail on the left to a waterfall, or go right for a view of the hills.”

“Right.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“No, I mean - we should go to the right. On the right trail. I - I like mountains,” Dani added, and it was clear she was pretending not to see the look Jamie was giving her. “Reminds me of home.”

Jamie swayed like a drunk in the saddle as the horse moved beneath her. “Always thought of you as a city girl.”

“Well, yeah,” said Dani. She expertly switched the reins between hands so she could scratch at her neck. “But the northwest coast is never too far away from the mountains. Or the sea.”

“Feeling a bit homesick are we?”

Dani shook her head. “Not really, no. I just think they look nice is all.”

Jamie gave a non-committal hum in reply. 

The day was mist-shrouded and cool, but the morning sun was quickly burning away the low-hanging fog. The trees were a riot of colour, greens and reds and rich ochre golds the colour of Dani’s hair, which had been tied back high on her head. Jamie found herself admiring the way a curl fell against the wool of Dani’s dark-washed peacoat lapel. The surrounding countryside held little interest in comparison.

As surreptitiously as she could, Jamie dug the bulky polaroid from the pocket of her coat. She lifted it and snapped a picture just as Dani was passing beneath a low-hanging branch. 

“What about you?” 

Jamie lifted her eyebrows. “What about me?” she repeated. She tugged the picture free before tucking both it and the camera away once more without waiting to see how the film would develop.

“Waterfall or mountains?” 

Jamie snorted. “Neither. Home was always little towns and rolling hills stinking of coal dust. We don’t have nature where I’m from.”

Dani shot her an exasperated glance. “Oh, so we’re playing that game are we?” 

“‘Course we are! ‘Cause I always win. And I love winning.”

“You do  _ not  _ always win.” 

Jamie gestured to herself and said, “Completely fucked up family followed by a prison sentence.” Then she gestured to Dani. “Clingy dead boyfriend.”

_ “Fiancé,”  _ Dani corrected her. “And a dead father. And an alcoholic mother.”

“Big deal. Everyone where I’m from’s an alcoholic. Even the bairns.”

“You’re such a liar.” 

“Am not!” Jamie said with mock indignance. 

Dani fixed her with a square-jawed stare, then pointed to herself and said, “Possessed by an evil ghost.” 

Jamie scoffed. “Oh, now that’s cheating.”

“Yeah, I win,” said Dani triumphantly, turning her attention back to the trail their horses were ambling down.

“That’s not fair! How am I supposed to compete with that?” 

“Get possessed by a ghost,” Dani offered blithely, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Fine.” Jamie pulled back on the reins, drawing her horse to a halt. “I’ll swap with you.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me.”

Dani’s horse had continued taking a few steps, but she guided it sharply back around with nothing but a press of her knees. She stared at Jamie, her expression stricken. Her breath came in plumes from her mouth, and her cheeks were pink from exposure to the chill of the morning air. 

“Jamie,” she breathed softly. “You shouldn’t joke like that.”

Jamie jerked her chin up a fraction as though in a challenge. “Who said anything about joking?”

Dani’s hands tightened around the reins. Her knuckles flashed white and bloodless. “I mean it,” she said, and her voice grew stronger. “You don’t want this."

"That's for me to decide. Just as it was for you back at Bly."

"No. I - I don’t want to risk this. I don’t want to risk you. Or me. Or us.” 

“Have you never considered it?” Jamie asked. “Maybe we could swap her back and forth. Maybe we could buy more time. Maybe she would prefer it, having multiple hosts. Let me help.”

But all while Jamie spoke, Dani was shaking her head and biting her lip. Her eyes seemed unfocused, as though she were looking at something over Jamie’s shoulder in the middle distance. “No. No, it doesn’t work like that. We can’t just -”

“Why not?”

“Jamie, I’m serious. You shouldn’t -”

“Is there some law about supernatural possession that I’m not aware of? Hmm? ‘Can’t trade ghosts,’ it says, does it? Why don’t you even want to try something that might give us a chance?”

"Just -!" Dani had screwed her eyes shut. "Just because!"

"Because why?" Jamie insisted, a dog with a bone.

"Because!"

"Bollocks! Tell me why -!"

_ “Because she is mine!”  _

A group of blackbirds launched into startled flight from the nearby trees. The horses nickered, stomping their hooves uncomfortably, their ears flicking to and fro. Dani’s voice still rang through the air like something dark and raw, hanging in twisted bloodied bits from the branches over them. 

Dani swallowed thickly. Her eyes were wide open now. Her face was pale. Her lower lip trembled. When she spoke her voice was small. “I’m - I’m sorry. I didn’t - That wasn’t -” 

She inhaled deeply and shakily. Her whole face twitched, and her shoulders, and her trembling hands. It seemed as though she were slowly curling in upon herself until she was gripping the saddlehorn, shaking, and gasping for breath. The horse beneath her took hesitant steps backwards, its ears flat against its skull, as though trying to escape the person slumped atop it.

“Hey,” Jamie said weakly, feeling helpless as she watched. 

When Dani began to slip from the saddle and towards the ground, Jamie struggled to dismount, half-falling to the earth and then scrambling away from her own horse, which snorted and balked. It turned tail and dashed back the way they had come, jangling with tack. She rushed over and managed to prop Dani up just in time to keep her from toppling right over. 

“Hey, hey,” Jamie repeated. “I’ve got you. It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

Dani’s eyes were staring wide at nothing, and the reins had slipped from her grasp. “She’s mine,” she was muttering to herself. “She’s mine. She’s - She’s -”

“Okay,” Jame said, keeping one hand on Dani and snatching up the loose reins in the other so that the horse would not dart away. “Okay. She’s yours. She’s yours. Okay?”

Dani was nodding along desperately. She had grabbed onto Jamie’s arm to steady herself. Gradually she managed to straighten, but her shoulders remained hunched. All at once she looked like she had no idea what to do atop a horse, and she fumbled picking up the reins, leaving them slack. When she glanced around, her face fell.

“Oh,” Dani said. “Your horse -”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But -”

Jamie patted her leg. “I’ll walk back.” For good measure, she grabbed a hold of the loose reins dangling from the horse’s bit, and began leading it round so they could make their way back to the rancher’s stables. “C’mon you,” she chided the horse, when it tugged its head slightly. “None of that, now.”

The ground was soft. Mud speckled the horse’s shod hooves and Jamie’s worn leather boots. Meanwhile Dani rode, utterly silent. In the quiet that descended over them, there returned the sound of wildlife, of chirping birds and the rustle of the wind through the trees. Jamie felt like a servant. Some sort of old timey stable boy, leading her mistress's horse back from a long ride. 

Above her, Dani made an abortive noise in the back of her throat.

Jamie cocked her head to glance over her shoulder, but did not stop. “Something wrong?”

“Apart from the obvious?” Dani asked dryly. Then she tugged the peacoat more tightly around herself. The lapels bunched up around her neck. “It’s going to sound stupid.” 

“I’m all for stupid. Love it. Can't get enough of it, in fact.”

Her attempt to make Dani loosen up, laugh a little, didn’t hit quite as effectively as it usually did. For a moment Dani made no reply. Then - 

“I wanted to see the mountains.” 

It was an almost petulant grumble. She was scowling down at the horn gripped in her free hand, as though the saddle had somehow wronged her. 

Smiling, Jamie shook her head. “I’ll take you tomorrow. We’ll drive. Fuck horses, anyway.”

"Yeah. Okay. That sounds good." There came the sound of a sniffle, and the rustle of cloth. "God, I'm hungry."

Truth be told, they had eaten not an hour ago. Quite a large meal, too. Still, Jamie dug around in her other pocket and pulled out a crisp apple, which she had been saving for just the purpose. She handed it over, and Dani took it.

"Thank you."

"No worries."

"No, I mean it. For everything."

"Like I said," Jamie shot an impish look over her shoulder. "No worries. Really."

Dani ate everything, even the core. She licked the juices off her fingers and chewed on the stem the whole ride back.

It wasn't until they had returned to the cabin some time later, when Jamie was emptying her pockets, that she came across the photo. Dani had waltzed off to the kitchen to make them a too hearty, too early lunch. Jamie cast her a quick glance, then turned the photograph over to have a proper look at it.

The Dani of an hour or so ago was poised in the saddle like a dressage rider. Mist and shadow clung to the edges of her. The leafy branch was half-cast across her face like an ornament, like an exotic hat, even. And from beneath the shadowy brim was a mask of a face with dark eyes that burned through the fog.

* * *

The honeymoon couldn’t last forever. Sooner than either of them would've liked, they were back in their little apartment over the flower shop. There was nothing of the trip but a handful of cherished memories -- Jamie had kept none of the photographs. 

None of the photographs Jamie had taken in their years together had seemed to turn out quite right. And Dani had kept no photos of herself before Bly. They were, Jamie had been told, still back at her old home on the other side of the continent. 

It wasn't for lack of trying. Jamie kept a camera at hand most days in the vain hope that she might steal an image of her wife to hold and to keep after -- well. After. But she didn't want to make Dani uncomfortable, no matter how often Daai told her it was fine, that she could take as many pictures as she liked. She tried to be discreet. 

The times she wasn't, when Jamie grew frustrated enough to ask Dani to stage herself for a quick snap and flash of the lens, none of those photos turned out right either. Dani wasn't herself in those. As though she were a plastic doll posed for her high school prom night on someone's arm. Somehow those pictures were even worse. Both Jamie and Dani would grimace and shake their heads, laughing in mutual agreement that it ought to be chucked in the bin.

Life went on. There would be time for other pictures. Tomorrow, perhaps. Or the day after. When the time came, Jamie would be ready, camera in hand. 

* * *

They were seated at a cafe, waiting for their drinks to arrive, and Dani was staring at a dark-haired child. The family of three was at a nearby table. Jamie watched as Dani's eyes would lose focus mid-sentence, and drift in that direction, her voice trailing off until the words hung crooked from her tongue.

Jamie cleared her throat, and leaned an elbow on the table between them. "Yeah. I don't have the right kind of equipment for that, Poppins."

Dani's gaze jerked back towards Jamie. She blinked. "What?"

"But we could try something else," Jamie offered with a shrug. "If you like."

Dani's jaw dropped, so that her mouth hung partially open in shock as the realisation of what Jamie was saying dawned on her. "Wha -? No! No." She laughed nervously and self-consciously rubbed at the side of her neck. "Thank you, but no."

"You sure? Because if you want it, then -”

“I’m worried about -” Dani interrupted, but faltered before tilting her head and saying, “- her.”

Lifting an unconcerned eyebrow, Jamie asked, “And what does Viola want, then?"

Dani started slightly at the sound of that name being spoken with such sudden irreverence. "I - Well, I don't think it would help. A child. I don’t think a child would help."

"No?"

Dani shook her head. Then, with a surreptitious glance over her shoulder at the family, she leaned forward. Her gold watch clinked against the tabletop, and she spoke in a low voice, "Actually, I think it might make things worse."

Jamie frowned in confusion, but leaned forward all the same as though the two of them were having some clandestine meeting instead of talking right there in the open air of the cafe. "And why's that? I thought she wanted a kid or whatever?"

"Well, yeah, but -" The tip of Dani’s tongue darted out to nervously wet her lower lip. "I - I dunno. I just have a weird feeling about it."

"Bad weird? Or just weird weird?"

"I think -" Dani inhaled sharply and sat up straighter. She seemed to consider something in the middle distance, before coming to a conclusion and shaking her head, her nose scrunched up. "Mmm. No. Just weird weird. But also -- I mean -- she wants it. Really badly. But any kid of mine wouldn't actually -- y'know -- be mine."

"I don't follow."

Dani fixed her with a hard unblinking stare. "I'm saying: it would be  _ hers." _

Slowly the realisation of what she was saying hit Jamie, along with a corresponding image. Of a woman. Putting on a shiny new satin dress.

"Yikes," said Jamie.

"Yeah." Dani slumped back into her seat. She went back to chewing on her lower lip and staring over at the other table. Except that the waitress came by not a moment later. So, Dani jolted up straight again and said, "Oh, thank you so much."

The waitress flashed them both a brilliant smile. "No problem."

Jamie waited until she was gone before saying, “You never answered my first question.”

Dani had picked up a small silver spoon and was stirring milk into her coffee until it turned a shade of tan. “What do you mean?” 

“Do you want a child?” Jamie asked, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world. “Not her.  _ You. _ You shouldn't let her stop you from doing something that you want to do."

Setting down the spoon so that it was balanced on the edge of the saucer, Dani picked up her coffee. "I know that.” She took a sip. When it was clear that Jamie wasn’t going to let this go, Dani set her cup back down but kept her hands locked around it. “I thought I did. Before. Back when I was -” She made a fluttering gesture with her fingers as though waving away a buzzing fly. "Y'know."

“Yeah? And what about now?”

Dani’s face slackened at the question. Her eyes unfocused. 

Jamie snapped her fingers. “Hey. None of that, now.”

Dani jerked. "Sorry. Uhm -" She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose. Her hands gripped the porcelain cup tight. Then she shook her head, a small twitchy side-to-side motion. "No. No, I don't. No. Not anymore."

With a shrug, Jamie added a splash of milk to her cup of bag tea. "Well, all right, then."

Dani's eyes blinked open. "And what about you?"

Jamie made a face. "I've spent enough of my life raising kids. Siblings. My own mother. You know how it is. So, no. But if it was something you wanted, then sure. I would be all for it."

"But if you don't want it, then -"

"I'm perfectly willing to make a compromise. Fortunately for us both, neither of us have to. It's the best of both worlds, really," Jamie assured her. She took that first sip of tea, then made another face. "Ugh. Why can't the Yanks ever make a decent cuppa?"

Dani had picked up her own cup for a sip, and smiled around the brim. "Want a conciliatory muffin instead?"

Jamie set her tea down with a grimace. "Yes, please."

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” said Dani, already standing and leaving her coffee behind. She shuffled through her purse for her wallet. 

While pushing her tea away from herself in disgust, Jamie paused. She frowned. She gazed more intently at the cup Dani had left on the table. The coffee steamed faintly, yet there remained the imprints of fingers on the porcelain, as though she were still sitting there, gripping the mug between her cold hands.

Jamie’s head jerked around, and her gaze sought Dani. She found her at the till, exchanging cash for a blueberry muffin. Not taking her eyes off her, Jamie fumbled around in the pocket of her own coat, which was slung over the back of her chair. Finally, she withdrew the polaroid camera that never seemed to leave her side these days. She lifted the camera to her face, and peered through, pointing it in Dani’s direction.

Dani’s figure was distorted through the lens. She moved as though through water, turning and striding towards Jamie across the bottom of a lake. Her golden hair seemed to float. Or perhaps that was the breeze, a draught that had slipped benignly beneath the cafe’s front door. Every step lingered behind her; there were shadows in her footprints. As she passed by the table with the family of three, her attention drifted towards the child -- just for the barest of moments -- and through the camera lens her eyes were deep and dark as muddy waters. 

Jamie lowered the camera, and thought to herself that a change of strategy was in order.


	2. Jamie II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut incoming

> _ “The night isn’t dark; the world is dark. Stay with me a little longer.” _
> 
> __ _ -‘Departure’, Louise Gluck _

* * *

* * *

"I really thought this would go away. But it just hasn't."

They were sitting in a cheap diner, their local favourite down the road. Jamie had already received her meal -- an omelette with a cup of coffee and a side of toast, all of which was going to be far too much for her to eat; she never would get used to the size of American meals -- but Dani had yet to receive her own. Jamie paused in the act of picking up her knife and fork. Dani's eyes were glued to her meal, like a starving man who had seen food for the first time in weeks.

"What would go away? Food?" Jamie asked. She slowly passed the knife and fork between her hands -- clink of chipped cutlery -- and began to eat.

"Yeah." 

Dani tore her gaze away from Jamie's plate and instead focused on the salt and pepper shakers between them, bracketing the serviette dispenser like little guardsmen. She was sitting on her hands, as though that were the only thing keeping herself from snatching Jamie's food away for herself. She worried at her lower lip with her teeth. 

"I mean, I've always liked food. But after -" She made a nodding motion with her head. "- anyway  _ after, _ it was like I'd never tasted food before in my life. It was so strange. Everything tasted so sweet. I could hardly choke down a cup of apple juice. And a cheeseburger? I thought that I'd died the first time I bit into one. All that sauce."

Dani trailed off. She was frowning contemplatively at her scratched reflection in the chrome-plated dispenser.

Jamie shoved a mouthful of omelette into her mouth and spoke gracelessly around it. "Always thought American food was too sweet, myself. Maybe you got used to Owen's cooking over in England."

Dani gave her a look. "You know that's not why."

"Yeah, I know." Jamie finished chewing, already cutting up another piece and loading up the back of her fork with her knife. "I noticed the appetite change, of course."

"Mmm." Dani nodded. Her mouth was twisted to one side; she was chewing the inside of her cheek and sneaking glances at her wristwatch as though even the ten minute wait was too long for her to bear. "But it just -- it hasn't gone away. It's more bearable now. I still struggle with cake that's really sugary or has too much icing. But food is -- well, it's an experience. Every time."

Jamie made a noise in the back of her throat; her mouth was too full for even her to speak. She finished her bite, and then said, "Anything in particular you two have been craving?"

If anything, Dani seemed startled by the question. The thoughtful groove in her brow deepened, before she answered,  _ "Tarte au citron. _ She used to love lemons. Anything sour. Not too sweet. Always a hint of bite."

Nodding slowly, Jamie said, "Yeah, all right. We can make do with that. And what about you? Do you like sour things?"

Dani's mouth opened to answer, but before she could say anything, the waitress came by and placed an enormous cheeseburger with all the trimmings in front of her -- bacon, extra cheese and gherkin, the whole lot. "Thank you so much."

The waitress had hardly taken two steps away before Dani descended upon her meal. The cheeseburger was in her hands and then in her mouth in a flash. She took a large bite, and juice dripped all down her fingers. As Dani chewed, she moaned softly, eyes shut in rapture. “God,” she mumbled. “That’s so good.”

Jamie lifted her eyebrows and coughed discreetly. “Blimey. Do you two need a room?”

Dani nodded and took another bite. Jamie laughed, and she could see the way Dani's mouth curled into a smile even as her cheeks bulged.

* * *

Later that week, Jamie was passing by a bakery on her way back to their florist's shop. She stopped and peered through the window. All of the baker's wares were on neat display, ranging from little fancies to proud cakes dusted with chocolate shavings.

And there, near the middle, a row of lemon tarts the size of her hand.

When she returned to the florist's shop, the bell attached to the door by a string announced her arrival, along with her accompanying bellow, "I'm back! I see you didn't burn the place down in my absence! Well done, love!"

It was a Saturday, and the sign turned to 'CLOSED' on the door bounced when she shut it. The sound of footsteps drummed down the stairs, and Dani's legs appeared as she descended the steps. "Oh, hey! How'd the bank go?"

"The usual." Jamie walked forward to the countertop with the cash register. "All their old farts with all their old money. And some money that isn't theirs either."

"Uh huh," Dani said. "And the loan?"

Jamie lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Sounded like they were impressed by the little talk you had with them last week about tenants and estate management.”

Dani’s face split into a wide smile. “Really? They’re going to give us the money to buy the shop instead of rent?”

“And the apartment, too,” Jamie said, and she couldn’t help it either. Her own grin broadened. “Anyway, I got you something."

She held out a plain brown wax-paper bag. Dani blinked, and took it.

"Oh, thanks, I was just thinking about -" Dani's voice slowed, then stopped. Her smile lessened slightly, when she opened the bag and saw what it contained. A perfect lemon tart with a dash of cream that had been only slightly smushed on Jamie's walk home. "Oh."

Without a word, Jamie pulled from her back pocket the plastic fork that had come with it. "Go on, then. Let's see how it compares to 16-whatever."

For a long moment Dani fiddled with the plastic fork. It were as though she were standing at the edge of a dock, readying herself for a plunge into icy waters. And then with a brave smile towards Jamie, she cut herself a piece and took a bite.

Jamie wondered what it must have been like. Dani's eyes were closed. She looked utterly transported.

"Good?"

Dani opened her eyes again and nodded. "So,  _ so _ good."

"Yeah?" Jamie leaned her elbows upon the countertop, watching as Dani went in for another bite. "Better or worse than 16-who-even-cares?"

Dani hummed around the fork in her mouth. Pulling it free and chewing, she said, "Better. Way better."

"Why d'you think that is?"

"It's -" Dani went quiet for a moment as she continued to eat, mulling over every morsel. "It's smoother. Richer. Tarter. More depth of flavour."

"Is that the ingredients talking? Or the fact that you've been stuck in a lake without a body for five-hundred years?"

Dani went very still. After a pause she kept chewing. “A bit of both, I think.” She swallowed, then took a deep breath and looked Jamie dead in the eye. “It’s still me, you know. I’m still me.”

Jamie smiled at her. “I know, Poppins. I know.”

When Dani held out the next forkful to her, she let herself be fed. And indeed, she’d been right. Smooth. Rich. Tart. And a depth of flavour. 

* * *

At some point -- she could not say exactly when -- Jamie began doing things explicitly thinking of not just what Dani might like, but what Viola might also like. 

She read old books. She asked a friend of a friend who went to university to study textile history for any hints of seventeenth century culture. Anything at all so long as it was between the years of 1645 and 1680. (She knew the dates perfectly, but she wasn’t about to let Viola know that. Couldn’t have their evil aristocratic ghost getting all uppity on them, could they?) 

She grew specialty plants. She bought specialty food. She gave her clothes and jewelry, little trinkets, only what she could afford. Dani loved them all. 

And Viola -- well, Viola was a mystery.

* * *

"Did you know that our very own Viola may very well have met Oliver Cromwell?"

Beside her in bed, Dani shifted and the mattress springs creaked beneath her weight. "Are you doing research on my ghost?"

In answer Jamie pointed at the place in the book she was reading and said, "In the year 1658 the daughters of one Mister Willoughby, Viola and Perdita, visited Court, aged fifteen and ten respectively. There they paid their respects and stayed for a few months in a London residence, before returning to the family estate." Jamie set the book down on her legs. "Do you think she actually met him? No. They couldn't have. The Lloyds weren't that reputable, were they?"

"She did," Dani said in a hollow tone. She was staring into the middle distance again, her expression slack. 

"Oh, yeah?" Jamie asked. "She want me to know that, does she?"

Still gazing off into space, Dani nodded.

Jamie gestured with the open book. "Noted." She tried to go back to reading, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Okay, what was he like? Good ol' Ironsides?"

"Cold." Dani's eyelids fluttered and she seemed to come to herself. She cleared her throat, but continued, "And he was so critical of her nice new clothes. But she had the last laugh in the end."

Jamie snickered. "Sounds about right." 

“He died that same year. Right after they’d visited,” Dani said. “She thought his beheading later was very funny.”

Hearing that, Jamie’s eyes widened. "Holy shit. Wait. Was Viola a secret Catholic?"

Dani scowled darkly at her. The air of their bedroom seemed suddenly colder.

"Whoops. Personal question, then?" Jamie held her hands together in mock supplication and thickened her accent. "A thousand pardons, m'lud."

With a snort of laughter, Dani pushed Jamie's hands down, but paused to lean forward for a quick peck on the mouth.

* * *

Sometimes Jamie felt like she was stalking a dead woman. Constantly trying to figure out what Viola might like, what might entice her to stay. And then worrying that perhaps it meant Dani was losing a bit of herself everyday. Like a coin rubbed smooth over the years, until the minted face was indistinguishable. One replacing the other. Or perhaps more like losing the line that separated them. Until she could no longer tell where Dani ended and Viola began. 

Yet in time Jamie learned she would do anything if it meant that Dani was here by her side. Every action. Every game pie. Every tight-armed hug. _ ‘Don’t go. Stay with me. Just for today. Just one more day.’ _

And every time, Dani caught her eye and smiled as though she had heard the unspoken words, as though they had rung about in the pull-down attic of their little apartment. And every time she would reach out to squeeze Jamie’s hand, and pull her into a reassuring kiss.

* * *

Americans, Jamie had learned since living here, were obsessed with Halloween. Personally, she didn’t see the appeal. Now, lighting up the effigy of a Catholic who had once attempted to blow up Parliament? That was more her cup of tea.

Still, when in Rome...And the few friends they had made along the way had invited her to a costume party in town. It would be churlish to decline. They needed more friends. Friends that weren’t linked to a shared trauma.

Besides, as it turned out her friend’s friend at university studying textile history was also an amateur seamstress, and had a few period-accurate pieces that fit without too much trouble. Just a bit nipped in at the waist and -- done. Jamie was set for a ball, or whatever the appropriate equivalent would’ve been called. 

“Hey, Jamie, could you help me with this wig? It’s being a real pain in the -” 

Dani emerged from their bathroom, half dressed in a Bride of Frankenstein white dress outfit, and froze. It was an hour or so before they were set to leave on the night, and Jamie was in their bedroom draped in a seventeenth century gown, seated on the mattress, a thorn-stripped rose in hand. Dani dropped the aforementioned wig to the ground and stared.

“Too much?” Jamie asked. She adjusted the puffy sleeves so that they sat lower on her arms, revealing more of her chest. “I don’t think it suits me, and I was going to go for a bloke’s outfit instead, but she insisted that -”

“No,” Dani breathed, shaking her head. “No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.” 

“Well, I knew that, obviously.” Jamie winked. Then she made a shooing gesture with the rose, rising from the bed and walking towards Dani. “Now, c’mon! Let’s get that zig-zag wig of yours on. We’re going to be late.”

Dani stepped to one side to block the exit. Her gaze was dark and fixed, unblinking, upon Jamie’s outfit. “I was wrong, actually. What I said just now.”

“What? About me being perfect?” Jamie joked.

“No, not that. It’s just -” Dani reached out with a tentative hand and her fingers were trembling. She thumbed an edge of the dress at Jamie’s sleeve, testing the rose-coloured silk there. “It’s the wrong colour. You should be in green. Laurel as a crown.” 

“Thanks?” Jamie said uncertainly.

Dani stepped closer. With her application of make-up and her pale flowing dress, she seemed more like a ghost than ever. Her hands were on Jamie’s upper arms now, stroking the fabric, following the line of the stomacher’s seams until they rested at Jamie’s narrowed waist.

Dani swallowed, and her voice sounded strained when she asked, “Are you wearing a pair of bodies?”

Jamie huffed with nervous laughter. “Am I wearing a -?  _ What?” _

As if coming to herself, Dani blinked and shook her head quickly. “I mean - uh - stays. Uh - What’s the name now? - a corset. Are you wearing a corset?”

“Yeah. And all the petticoats and frills.” Jamie straightened theatrically and tried to stretch her shoulders. “Bloody uncomfortable, too. I tell you what.” 

Any attempt to break Dani out of this spell with humour seemed futile, however. She was tracing the metallic gold thread of Jamie’s stomacher with greedy fingertips. “What exquisite  _ passementerie.” _

“Yeah,” Jamie said haltingly. She was being guided back towards the bed, their steps slow. “The girl I borrowed this from is into the real deal. Wanted to make it as authentic as possible. I’m guessing she passed with flying colours?”

Wordlessly, Dani nodded. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, her mouth painted a bold and bloody red. Her hands curled into fists, bunching up the skirts at Jamie’s hips as though she wanted to tear the cloth from her, only for her touch to slacken, and her palms to smooth down that same fabric like a caress. 

Dani continued walking them towards the bed. “I don’t know exactly what’s happening right now, but I really  _ really  _ want you.” 

Whatever reaction Jamie had been expecting, it hadn’t been this. Dani hadn’t blinked for what seemed like an age, and she held herself rigidly, every movement twitchy, as though she couldn’t quite remember how to control her muscles properly. 

“Can I -?” Dani started to ask, fingers already slipping towards the laces at Jamie’s front.

Jamie lifted the rose between them and used it to bop Dani gently on the forehead. “‘Course you can, Poppins. So long as it’s still you in there.” 

Dani blinked furiously and her head jerked back. Then she laughed softly. “Yeah. I’m - I’m here, too.” 

Jamie’s mouth curled in a smirk. “All right, then.” She tossed the rose onto the ground, and reached to the laces that held the gown in place. “Help me out of this thing.”

“No.” Dani grabbed her wrists and held them firmly in place. She shut her eyes for a quick moment, shaking her head back and forth. “Not yet.” 

“I thought you said -?”

“I know. And I do. Just -- slowly.” 

Jamie stared, searching Dani's face for some hint of her there, but her eyes were still tightly shut, and her fingers were pressed coldly around Jamie's wrists. 

"All right," Jamie said. "What do you want me to do?"

Dani's eyes opened then, and her gaze was piercing as a shot in the night. She let go of Jamie, stroking her wrists in silent apology, then said, "Be still."

Jamie lowered her arms, then tried her best to not move at all. A long silent moment stretched between them like a bolt of cloth flaring across a table for measuring. The muscles of Dani's face leapt, then settled, and it were as though the nervous energy ran right out of her to pool at their feet. She straightened to impeccable posture, and her expression was nothing but hunger.

It came as a shock, when Dani first tugged at the strings at Jamie's chest. Clever fingers, accustomed to such garments, worked the laces loose, criss by cross. When the gown had slackened just enough that it began to part from the under layers, she stopped. She brought her hands around, and dipped her fingers along the gap created between silk and cotton, running a line between them all the way from one of Jamie's shoulders, across her chest, to her opposite arm.

When her fingertips trailed across Jamie's collarbone to rest against her sternum, it felt like there was another set dragging along after them. Twin touches mirroring every movement of the other, until suddenly they weren’t. Dani leaned forward, and though her hand remained at the hollow of Jamie’s throat, Jamie could feel an icy caress continue to graze her warm skin.

Then Dani was kissing her neck. Jamie tilted her head to one side, only for some other presence to nudge it back upright. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a second pair of lips against her throat. She swallowed, neck craned back, and teeth scraped against the sensitive skin there, harder than Dani would have ever bitten, hard enough to make her jolt. From the corner of her vision she swore she could almost see another figure shrouded in white, but when her eyes darted in that direction, there was nothing. 

When Jamie felt a hand reach around her throat, she stiffened. "No," she said. "Not around my neck."

Immediately Dani went very still against her, and the hand withdrew. "Sorry. Better?"

Jamie nodded mutely, but could not bring herself to relax. Not when those pairs of hands had moved to part the robe gown from her front. The ruffled bunch of rose-coloured silk dropped to the mattress just behind her in a rustle. Dani was kissing her mouth now, a long deep drawn out kiss, cupping Jamie's cheeks between both hands, but something was still expertly reaching beneath a layer and untying the ribbons that held the padded pillow around her waist under the over skirt, until that, too, was dropped to the floor.

That phantom touch roved, then began to trace the intricate patterns of the stomacher again. There was more strength behind the caress now. As though, the person responsible were gaining confidence, or perhaps becoming more grounded in reality. The warm lamplight on the bedside table behind them cast too many shadows, and over Dani's shoulder Jamie could clearly see the silhouette of three people instead of two.

Those hands pressed against the seams of the stomacher, and Jamie broke off the kiss to gasp, "Careful. There are pins holding that in place."

"I know," Dani murmured against the side of her mouth. The hands passed right over the pins, leaving them in place. "I don't want it off."

"And miss out on all the fun?"

There was a certain steely coldness about Dani's answering smile. "Who said anything about that? Now,” she pressed gently at Jamie’s sternum. “Lie down.”

Jamie dropped onto the mattress, which bounced slightly beneath her weight. She made to shuffle up towards the headboard, but stopped when Dani sank to her knees before her. And yet, there was a dip in the mattress on either side of her. The blankets bunched up at four points as though beneath another weight. Jamie held her breath and let herself lie completely flat with her legs hanging over the side of the bed. The air above her was thick and cold and almost solid. It felt like lying at the bottom of a lake and staring up at the watery surface overhead.

She could feel Dani pushing up the over skirt and petticoat and whatever other layers there were. Jamie had been told the names of each one at the time, but hadn't paid much attention then. Now, she wished she had. Now, Dani was running her hands along each one in turn, slowly sliding them up to Jamie's hips.

Something tugged at one of the black ribbon garters just above Jamie's knees, which kept those long white stockings in place. Then Dani was sliding the left stocking down her leg, pausing to press a kiss to each patch of bare exposed skin. She shivered. As Dani removed the first stocking and moved to the second, Jamie felt a kiss at her neck again. The suddenness of it made her twitch. She reached out, but her hands passed right through the air above her. A pair of hands gripped her wrists and pinned them down to the bed.

Jamie made a noise in the back of her throat. Dani paused, and the grip around Jamie's wrists slackened just fractionally until it became clear that she wasn't fighting back.

Once the final stocking was removed, Dani pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Jamie's inner thigh. Jamie squirmed. Though Dani’s head was only barely visible between her legs, Jamie could not escape the feeling of someone staring intently at her. Dani’s mouth worked its way up and up and -- Jamie hissed, shutting her eyes and clenching her teeth. While the rest of her was cold, Dani’s tongue was a length of heat, licking long warm stripes and small circles. 

With a moan Jamie’s hands jerked, instinctively going to grab Dani’s head, but she was held back, tethered down by an invisible ghost that lingered over her like a dream. There came the sensation of something drawing closer, a draught of cold air that drifted across her face, and Jamie’s eyes flew open. 

If she focused, she could almost see the monochromatic shape. Dark locks of hair dripped down past her head and puddled on the surrounding bedsheets. Viola was crouched over her in all her former glory. Sparkle of light glinting against the pearls at her throat. A rich cool and satisfied smile. Dark weathers for eyes. The cat that had caught the canary in its claws. She leaned down and kissed Jamie, and her mouth was full and soft, and thin and hard all at once, demanding, unrelenting. 

Viola pulled away. She lifted one satin-gloved hand and stroked Jamie’s cheek. “Such a pretty thing.”

Her voice was a hoarse echo across space and time. Dani slipped two fingers into her, and Jamie had to bite back a whimper, her eyes squeezing shut. 

“Look at me.” 

With a hitched breath as Dani’s tongue worked against her, Jamie struggled to open her eyes, to keep her hips still. 

“That’s it, darling,” Viola smiled, and her face began to melt, like a painting that dripped with wax. “Come for me.”

Jamie’s back arched, her head turning against the sheets. She came with a whine that escaped in spite of herself, and it seemed to go on for ages, until she trembled and jerked her hips away. Layers of cotton and silk stuck to her skin with a thin sheen of sweat. Hastily Dani clambered up to take Viola’s place, hands on Jamie’s wrists, crouched over her, her mouth a smear of bold red lipstick, staring intently down, as though trying to memorise every last etch of her face. She swayed closer for a moment to brush her lips against Jamie’s, just softly. 

“You okay?” Dani asked, sounding breathless.

Jamie nodded. “Yeah. Good. Great, even.”

“Yeah?” 

In answer, Jamie reached up and crushed their mouths together in a bruising kiss. Dani groaned, pressing down against her, then gasped her name.

Hands on her hips, Jamie urged her further up until Dani’s knees bracketed either side of her head. She pushed up the sheer white fabric of the costume around Dani’s thighs. Above her, Dani gripped the frame of their headboard, knuckles white, already panting. 

Jamie shouldn’t have been so greedy. She should have taken her time. She should have made Dani writhe, holding her on that ledge for as long as she could until Dani finally broke. But Dani was so wet, her thighs were taught and trembling, and she was grinding down against Jamie’s mouth. Jamie could feel her chin and neck grow slick. She held onto the backs of Dani’s legs and urged her on, coaxing with every roll and swipe of her tongue until she came with a cry. 

One of Dani’s hands was tangled in Jamie’s hair. The other was still gripping the headboard tight. She was resting her sweat-stippled forehead against her own arm. When Jamie scraped her teeth lightly against her damp inner thigh, Dani shuddered.

"Are you all right?" 

“I need a moment,” Dani said, her chest heaving. “I want to go again, but - Just - Give me just a moment -”

Wiping at her face, Jamie helped Dani back down to lie beside her. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.” She kissed her temple while Dani gasped for breath into her shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

* * *

She had said before,  _ ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ _ and now years later Jamie wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Love them. Or at least the idea of them. In some twisted way. All that cold rage and loneliness clinging to whatever scraps it could find, winding around its prey like a snake slowly throttling the life out of its victim without even realising it. 

But maybe Viola wasn't squeezing so hard after all. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe Dani hadn't died yet because Viola was trapped, because she could never again return to the lake at Bly. Maybe Viola wasn't possessing her at all. And if she wasn’t possessing her, then - well. 

Even that was too good to be true. The best outcome by far given the circumstances. And really, deep down, Jamie knew that loving Danielle Clayton meant loving her enough to one day let her go. 

They didn’t make it to the Halloween party. Eventually, Dani tired herself out, riding Jamie’s fingers for a third time before collapsing atop her and panting for breath as she seemed to come fully back to herself. Jamie was barely able to convince Dani to join her for a shower before she fell asleep, all a-tangle in Jamie’s arms. 

The bedside lamp was still lit. Jamie carded her hands through Dani’s long damp and honeyed hair. From the light, the shadow of a woman standing at the foot of their bed was thrown in sharp relief against the opposite wall. Staring at the space where Viola stood, Jamie gently kissed the top of Dani’s head. 

Not for the first time in her life she found herself hoping beyond hope that someone could be haunted forever. 

* * *

One day she brought back a tin full of loose-leaf tea. It was intended for nobody but herself. A full and earthy black. Not the bog her father would've drunk before descending into the ground, but similar in colour to his lungs perhaps. Jamie pulled it out along with the rest of her shopping, and started to put everything away but the tin. And while she did so, she put on the kettle to boil.

The sound of the kettle whirring away on the stove drew Dani from another room, like a siren's song. She was dressed in an old pink shirt tucked into high-waisted, acid-washed jeans. Her hair was still wet from a recent shower. "Need some help?"

"Sure." Jamie handed over the last bag for unpacking. "Take care of that for me while I handle the kettle, will you?"

Without a word, Dani did as asked. She was the taller of the two, and didn't have to reach up onto her toes to put away things on the high shelves. And Jamie was too proud to admit she needed a stepping stool, herself. Why bother? That's what Dani was for. Among other things.

When Jamie opened the cupboard, she asked, "Don't suppose you want some as well? Might not be your cup of tea, so to speak."

"I'll have one. Thanks."

So, Jamie pulled out two mugs. The kettle hissed. She poured a bit of water into each cup to warm them, then spooned the appropriate amount of tea leaves into the pot. While waiting for the tea to steep, Jamie turned round and lifted herself onto the kitchen bench. There, she drummed her sock-clad heels against the cupboard and reached over to the jar that held an assortment of biscuits. Chocolate-drizzled digestives for herself, and ginger biscuits for Dani, who had the unfortunate American affection for cinnamon and ginger and cloves. Jamie couldn't stand ginger, herself. Tasted too medicinal.

Sticking a digestive biscuit into her mouth, Jamie wordlessly held out the jar. Dani was just finishing putting away the shopping bags, and wandered over. Her hand slipped into the glass opening and she fished out two ginger biscuits for herself. Jamie set the jar aside, and meanwhile Dani insinuated herself between Jamie's legs so that she stood snugly against her.

"Long day?" Dani asked.

"Mmm," Jamie mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit. She finished chewing. "Not too bad of a Sunday, to be honest. What about you?"

"I went for a walk in the park," Dani said, looking mischievous as she nibbled on the first biscuit.

"On a Sunday? The scandal," Jamie tsked, tapping her tongue against the backs of her teeth. "What would dear old Viola think about that?"

In reply, Dani arched her brows and smirked, "I think that was the appeal, actually. Plus, we're in the full swing of Fall now, and we won't have many sunny days soon. I wanted to take full advantage while I still had the chance."

"Buy anything while you were out?"

"A scarf for you," Dani answered. "And a pair of gloves for me."

She had developed a habit of buying articles of clothing out of the blue. Whenever the fancy seemed to strike her. Today was obviously one such a day.

"How very thoughtful."

"It's green. You look good in green," said Dani. "It brings out your eyes."

"I look good in anything," Jamie insisted. "And nothing."

Dani grinned. "That's true, too."

She stepped back and wandered over to the fridge for milk, when Jamie reached around to pour them each a cup of tea.

"Thanks, love," Jamie said, pouring them each a dollop of milk before handing the jug back to Dani, who put it away in the fridge once more.

Their fingers brushed when Jamie handed over the cup of tea. As ever these days, Dani's hands were cold. They eagerly wrapped themselves around the hot cup, and she pulled the tea close to her chest.

Jamie did the same. It was after all, as Dani had said, the throes of Fall; the weather was taking a turn to the icy. And that first sip of tea was pure heaven. It warmed her all the way down her throat and settled in her stomach. Jamie hummed at the sensation and closed her eyes. She could hear Dani do the same beside her.

"I wish I could take this moment," she heard Dani say in a soft murmur, "and press it into a big book for safekeeping. So, I could come back and look at it whenever I felt sad."

“Aye,” Jamie breathed. Then she opened her eyes, and said, “Though maybe only with another biscuit in hand.”

With a snort of laughter, Dani dragged the biscuit jar closer so they could each indulge again. Jamie took one. Again, Dani took two. 

“There. Now, _that -”_ Jamie gestured with her cup of tea, speaking around a full mouth, “- is a perfect moment.” 

“I could not agree more.” Dani had already finished one biscuit and was busily dunking her second into her tea. 

Jamie watched her finish the biscuit before nudging Dani softly with her elbow. “You’re normally more of a coffee drinker. I could’ve brewed a different brew, if you’d wanted.”

“Yeah. But - I dunno. Somehow,” Dani paused to take a sip. She smiled warmly around the brim of the cup. “This tastes like home.”

* * *

Polaroids were getting cheaper and more compact these days. She didn’t have to go cramming them into oversized pockets anymore. Jamie had thrown out countless photos over time, never quite satisfied with the outcomes but always searching for some way to keep a hold of her. The day she bought a new camera -- her old one had died the death of kings; a swimming accident, and cameras as it turned out did not swim very well -- she immediately wanted to try it upon returning home.

Dani had just gotten a new haircut. The barber had done something to her fringe to make it look like the sweep of a wing, and she was constantly brushing it out of her eyes. She did so when she looked up as Jamie entered the living room, greeting her with a curious smile.

Brown paper bag under one arm, Jamie took a moment to remove her jacket and sling it across the coat hanger, but she left the green scarf wound around her neck like a python. “I got a new toy,” she announced.

Dani tilted her head to one side. “I told you I’d buy you that nice pair of secateurs for Christmas.”

“And you still can.”

Immediately, Dani’s eyebrows rose and she seemed intrigued. “Then what kind of toy?”

Pretending to look scandalised, Jamie reached into the bag. “How naughty! Not that kind of toy.”

Dani’s cheeks tinged pink. “Oh,” she said. She sounded disappointed.

With a smirk, Jamie strode forward and pulled out the new camera. She chucked the now empty paper bag onto the kitchen countertop, and gestured for Dani to stand beside her. Shaking her head, Dani nonetheless complied. 

Jamie grabbed a hold of Dani’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek, before she lifted the camera up as high as her arm would allow. A press of her finger. A flash of light. A click and whir of cogs and internal mechanisms. 

Dani didn’t flinch this time or duck her head. She returned the kiss, then wandered away, humming to herself, without waiting to see the film develop. Jamie watched her go with a warm grin and an appreciative glance. When she looked down at the photo it was to find herself beaming from the square strip of film, and beside her Dani smiling tentatively, grasping Jamie’s opposite shoulder. Both of them were clear and their characters easily distinguishable. She felt herself relax a little. 

Then as the white veil continued to lift from the surface, she went very still. On each of their shoulders rested a pale hand, and in the space between them a shadow in the shape of a woman with hair as long and black as the night. The face was a mask worn of all features, but she swore she could see a pair of dark eyes watching her from the film, and a canny smile haunted the unmistakable likeness of the Lady Lloyd of Bly. 

Wrenching her eyes up, Jamie stared after Dani, who had wandered into their kitchen and was humming over the kettle. Slowly the water began to build to a boil. The kettle began to hiss. Then to shrilly whine. 

Dani removed the kettle from the heat and poured boiling water into the brown betty teapot. "How'd the picture turn out this time?"

Briefly, Jamie considered throwing this one away like all the others, but it were as though a hand was still squeezing her shoulder tight. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to be known and most of all obeyed. Clearing her throat, she took a few hesitant steps forward then held out the square strip of film. 

Dani set the kettle back down, and took the picture. She turned it round for a better look. There followed a sharp inhalation, like tearing in one last breath before the plunge. Her eyes widened and then, a slow smile crossed her face. She gasped out an incredulous laugh.

"Y’know, I - I thought this was going to be terrible, but -" Dani stroked her fingers over the image. "It really isn't half bad. You look - I mean. We look -" 

Suddenly she snatched her hand away from the picture, clenching her unruly fist and lowering it. Her breaths were shaky but when she glanced up, her eyes were bright. She held up the photo. "Can we keep this one?"

Jamie nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Sure.”

Relief suffused Dani’s face. She did not tuck the photo away in some little corner of the apartment, something to be passed by without a second glance. No. Instead, she turned and began pulling magnets from the fridge. She cleared their normally busy little refrigerator, pushing everything aside to make space. And right there at the very centre of the blank white canvas she pinned the photo into place with a single plain black magnet. 

“There,” Dani breathed softly. Her trembling fingertips lingered against the white-edged film. “That looks right. That - It feels just right. Right there.” 

The hand at Jamie’s shoulder withdrew, but then there was the feeling of something drifting from the top of her head to the nape of her neck. As though someone were trying to tame the wild curls there with a gentle, approving touch. 

“Dani,” Jamie croaked, her voice cracking. 

“Hmm?” Dani turned around.

Striding forward, Jamie stopped only when she was close enough that she could peer deeply into Dani’s eyes. They were as they always had been. Variegated as an infected holly. 

“Are you -?” Jamie had to swallow down the burr in her throat. “Are you feeling yourself?” 

Dani’s answering smile was puzzled. “Yeah,” she said, her words slow and thoughtful, as though considering something inward very closely. “Yeah, I am.” 

And she reached up to card her fingers through Jamie’s untamed hair. “You know, it’s strange, really.” Dani’s hand followed the same path as the one had before, coming to rest at the nape of Jamie’s neck, a cool solid comforting weight. She stroked her thumb, and the motion was repeated by one that was colder, like an echo, before the two hands came together at last. “Somehow, I feel more myself than ever.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Certain austerity measures were introduced during the time of Cromwell, including but not limited to: restrictions of the celebration of Christmas, and restrictions on working on Sundays. Women were reportedly harassed if they were seen going for walks on Sundays, hence the tip of the hat in the fic.
> 
> 2) As an Englishwoman, Viola probably would’ve called “corsets” instead “bodies” or even “a pair of bodies.” This would later fall out of use after her death, replaced by the term “stays.”
> 
> 3) anyway, Dani is haunted forever until she dies of old age with Jamie and that's that.
> 
> EDIT - turns out I'm writing a chapter 3 I guess tho these notes still stand regardless


	3. Dani I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be finished but then I had Ideas about Dani's POV in this story so here we go

> _ “Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake _
> 
> _ and dress them in warm clothes again.” _
> 
> __ _ -Scheherazade, Richard Siken _

* * *

* * *

It is 1995, and it’s about to begin. Dani is in a cabin in the vast and wooded wilderness. She does not remember how old Flora and Miles are. If she thinks about it too hard, she grows confused by the notion that they are adults now. Somewhere in the back of her mind they will always be eight and ten. Even when Henry and Owen send her letters with updates and photographs. 

And that’s natural. 

Isn’t it?

Jamie always seems surprised when Owen mentions that Flora has a boyfriend, or that Miles has taken up his first job. So, it’s fine. It’s happening to other people, too, she assures herself. It’s just what it’s like, the passage of time, growing older, being adrift. 

It’s 1995 and the sun hovers in the sky like a basilisk’s paralytic stare. Light gleams against the water of the lake, still and blue as glass. Jamie has gone off somewhere -- something about a walk through the trees with her camera -- and Dani is afraid to move. She is sitting on the back porch of their little rented cabin retreat, staring out at the body of water. Her heart thrums in her chest, loud as a downpour. She grips her wrists, locked around her knees, her heels tucked up against her legs. 

A fly has been buzzing around her head for what seems like hours now. Or perhaps it was only minutes. When it lands on the back of her forearm, she stifles the urge to brush it away, remaining perfectly still. And yet, it happens. Something slaps against the back of her arm -- a cold and disembodied hand -- and the fly drops to the lichen-gripped wooden slats of the porch beneath her. 

Dani swallows. When she finally dares to crane her neck and look down, she can feel a slithering beneath her own skin. Like the press of ribs against the scales of a snake’s coils. Like hands groping against a layer of sterile latex. She is a rubber person-suit, all stomach and no lung. When she finally remembers to breathe, it comes in a frantic gasp that she has to swallow down. 

The fly is dead at her feet, and something has begun to pull it to little pieces in a grisly almost childish dissection.

“Stop that,” Dani mutters. “I don’t care if it’s dead. It’s cruel.” 

The fly stops moving. And then beneath it the lichen is etched away in flakes, as though a fingernail were dragging across the wood, leaving marks in the grain. Dani watches in quiet horror as an image begins to take shape. When she realises what it is, she wrenches her eyes up and pushes herself to her feet. 

Using the toe of her shoe, Dani viciously scrapes away what’s written there -- the letters ‘V.i.’ like the beginning of an all too familiar name.

* * *

It starts off with a wristwatch and a box of battered crayons. The kind that Dani used to give to the kids in her homeroom classes. Dani opens the box of crayons and spreads a few spare sheets of paper across the dining table. Jamie is not at the apartment; she’s off running errands for the flower shop and won’t be back for a while yet. 

Biting at her lower lip, Dani nervously plays with the golden clasp of the wristwatch that Jamie had given her on their honeymoon not so long ago. She studies the blank pages with a furrowed brow, before removing the watch and tapping its ivory face with her fingertips. It is eleven twenty am. It is early in 1996. The day is clearly displayed where the number three should have been. 

“We don’t have much time,” Dani says. “I’m going to give you half an hour. Okay?” 

There is no reply. 

“Okay,” Dani breathes. “Okay. Half an hour. I mean it.”

She sets the wristwatch carefully to one side, so that it is out of the way yet clearly visible on the table. Then she picks up a crayon and holds its tip over the white sheet of paper. Her heart feels like it's trying to beat its way out of her chest in time with the ticking of every second. Before she can even make a mark, she blinks.

The box of crayons has been ripped open. Multiple colours are strewn about. Some of the crayons have been snapped in half. Her eyes flick to the wristwatch. It is noon. 

“I said half an hour,” Dani sighs in exasperation. And then she glances down.

The top page has been thickly covered in black. From corner to corner. Until she had obviously run out of that colour, leaving a mere stump clenched between the fingers of her left hand. Even holding it now feels strange. She is right handed. She sets the black stump of a crayon down.

Dani flips to another page. A sea of meticulous black. She flips to another and inhales sharply through her nose. Then, she frowns and lifts the paper for closer inspection. She has drawn an antique trunk, bound and locked in cold dark iron. 

Clearing her throat, Dani asks, “Is there something inside?”

No answer. 

“All right.” Dani puts the page onto the table and picks up the nearest yellow crayon with her right hand. “Maybe we just need a key. That seems perfectly normal. Just a -” she hesitates to draw, “- just a key.” 

The moment she begins to draw an old-fashioned key beside the trunk, the muscles of her hand tighten. Her fingers clench together so hard her forearm shakes. The crayon snaps in her palm.

“Stop,” Dani says, trying to keep her voice calm but unable to hide the tremor in every syllable. Her fingernails bite into her palm. She can smell the tang of copper. “Stop it. Please. You’re hurting me.  _ Viola -” _

At the sound of that name, Dani’s hand convulses. She drops the crayon with a gasp, and pushes herself away from the table. The chair screeches back and then clatters against the wooden floor as she stumbles to her feet. Her breaths come in short sharp pants. Something warm drips down her fingers, but she clenches her hand into a fist and closes her eyes and inhales deeply. 

“All right.” Dani clears her throat and nods. “No opening the trunk. That’s all you had to say, you know.”

As ever, Viola is silent. Quiet as the grave.

* * *

No, that's not quite right. It starts with a meal. It is 1987, and Bly is not two days behind them. The days have been sun-drenched and warm. Late spring gives way to summer. And perhaps it's just a figment of their collective relief, but the world entire seems brighter.

They are in London. Jamie has arranged for a stay in a dingy hotel. Dani had been forced to drag her away from the reception counter when the concierge refused to give them a queen sized bed and insisted that they needed two singles.

"Fucking twat," Jamie grumbles under her breath.

"Are you still mad about that?" Dani asks. They are sitting in a crowded little pub located just down the street from the hotel. Dani's hand lingers on the sweating glass of beer resting on the table before her.

Meanwhile, Jamie grips her own pint with a fist and a scowl. "'Course I am. He knew what he was doing. If I want to sleep in the same bed with you, then it's none of his bloody business."

Dani reaches out and places a hand on Jamie's knee beneath the table. "It's fine. We'll just push the two together."

"Oh, aye! And I'll end up wedged in the gap like a muppet by dawn. Tit," she muttered the last to herself while raising the glass of beer to her mouth for a sip.

"Or," Dani says and she strokes her thumb against the seam of Jamie's inner knee. "We don't push them together at all, and I'll just squeeze into your bed."

"Nice try, but your elbows are deadly when you sleep, and I like my liver just the way it is. Untenderised."

"Oh, so, you don't want a second beer after this?"

In answer, Jamie downs what remains of her pint in a single tip of the glass. Dani watches her throat work with a smile and a shake of her head. Jamie slams the empty glass back onto the table and then gestures towards the bar for another.

"I thought as much." Dani gives Jamie's leg one last pat before pulling her hand away before anyone else in the pub can notice.

Jamie waits until another beer has been brought over, then she gives Dani a nod. "You know you don't have to keep doing that."

Dani cocks her head to one side. "Doing what?"

"That." Jamie has lifted the beer with one hand, and gestures towards Dani with it. "Being all prim in front of other people with me. This isn't the country. More queers in London than you can shake a stick at."

Clearing her throat, Dani ducks her head and peers around them, but nobody is paying them any mind. "I know that," she says though she keeps her voice down. "It’s just -- it’s -- difficult. Breaking bad habits."

Jamie shrugs. "Not a bad habit. A survival instinct, more like."

Dani doesn't answer. Instead, she takes a surreptitious sip of her beer. Her shoulders are still hunched up, and she sits on her free hand to stop herself from fiddling nervously with the buttons of her jean jacket.

"Hey." Jamie puts down her own glass and leans forward, both elbows on the table so that she can fix Dani with a gentle look. "It's all right. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just want you to feel like you can be you in public."

Dani sets her drink down and her hand makes an abortive motion, as though of its own volition, to grasp Jamie's right there on the table. She stops herself before she can. Her hand clenches into a fist, and she has to slowly let it unfurl before with great daring allows their fingers to brush. "I know. And you - you didn't. I'm working on it. I just need -" she swallows thickly. "I need more time."

Jamie watches her carefully, and for a brief panicked moment Dani is overcome with the irrational fear that she's about to be told off. But then the corner of Jamie's mouth curls in a smile. With a wink Jamie taps her fingertips playfully against Dani's hand before sitting back and picking up her beer once more. "Luckily, time for you is something I've plenty of. Our food's here, by the way."

Blinking, Dani sits up straighter in her seat and glances over her shoulder just as a waitress strides up to their table, arms laden with plates.

"Beef pie for you," says the waitress as she places one meal down in front of Jamie, "And a cheeseburger for you."

Dani flashes her a smile. "Thank you."

"No worries, love. You two, enjoy."

Jamie has picked up her cutlery and is already draping a napkin across her lap. Dani looks down at her own meal, and is suddenly overcome with how hungry she really is. As though she had for the past few hours completely forgotten what it was like to have a stomach at all. The burger isn't anything special, looking at it. A few fries are piled up on one side of the dish, but no condiments have been included on the table for them.

Normally, she would grab ketchup but she finds herself unable to wait. Now, she grabs the burger in both hands and lifts it to her mouth for a bite.

It is, she realises, the first cheeseburger she's had since Bly. Probably since before Bly, if she were being honest with herself. A deep-seated electric feeling shoots up her spine as she chews. Dani blinks, taken aback.

"Christ," Jamie mutters. "Do we not feed you enough, or something?"

"Mmm?" 

Dani glances down and is shocked to find that the burger is half gone already. Juice drips down her wrists and chin. Her cheeks bulge and her mouth is so full she can hardly chew. Dani tries to slow down, but no sooner has she swallowed a bite than her teeth tear into another, so fast she can hardly breathe. She tries to remember the last minute or two. She tries to remember if cheeseburgers had ever tasted this good. She tries to remember the taste of food at all. Before she can come to a satisfying conclusion, the burger is gone and Dani’s hands are already reaching for the fries with mad abandon. 

Meanwhile Jamie is watching this all unfold with a mixture of concerned amusement. More than half of her pie is still untouched on the plate. “And here I thought prison taught me to eat fast.” 

Dani’s hands are trembling before she is done. Her jaw aches at the hinges, and her chewing has slowed. Closing her eyes, she inhales deeply through her nose even as she finishes the last of the fries. The roof of her mouth has a raw peeled feeling to it. Too much heat and salt all at once. She has to steady herself by leaning her forearms on the table. 

“Feeling better?” Jamie asks. “I should call you ‘Hoover’ instead of ‘Poppins.’” 

Dani hiccups on a small laugh, and then feels her stomach tense. It is an effort to swallow down the last overwhelming bite, and it’s like a stone going down the whole way, landing heavy as lead in her gut. She reaches for her drink, fingers shaking, but barely manages a sip before setting it back down again. 

“Excuse me,” Dani mumbles. “I’ll be - ah - right back. Excuse me.” 

“You all right?” Jamie asks. Concern has won out in the end.

Dani doesn’t answer. Lurching to her feet feels like being pulled upright on strings. She walks blindly across the pub and down a narrow corridor, following little signs until she pushes open a dark-stained door that’s slightly sticky to the touch. Once inside the bathroom, she stumbles into the nearest stall and is immediately sick.

By the time she has finished, sweat sticks the cotton shirt to her back. Her skin feels clammy and the rough white tiles of the floor bite into her knees as she cradles the toilet close. 

Dani sits up straighter. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and mumbles, “It better not be like this every time we eat something.”

It isn’t. And Dani manages to walk back to their table to order another meal -- something smaller this time, please -- but some days, when she feels stretched like a rope coiled round itself, she thinks that she’ll mistake the end of herself for the beginning, that a single bite will be the thing that kills her in the end.

* * *

Viola draws many things. Things that make sense and things that don't. She draws a four poster bed with carved wooden posts. She draws the unmistakable facade of the manor itself. She draws blank faces that lack all features. She draws meaningless shapes in dark colours that tangle together in a grim monochromatic collage.

And she writes her name. Over and over again until it's scrawled across every page in great looping letters. Viola Lloyd. Viola Lloyd. Viola Lloyd. Viola -

"Can't you write something else?" Dani asks. She looks down at the table. "And did you have to make such a mess?"

The name had also been drawn in crayon onto the tablecloth. Dani sighs and resigns herself to buying a new one. As she begins clearing the surface to gather up the tablecloth and chuck it in the washing machine -- maybe it’s salvageable yet -- her left hand instead curls around an orange crayon.

She watches her hands move of their own volition with a sense of unreality. Every errant twitch, every slide of muscle, every wrinkle of skin. She is a snake shedding its own excess flesh, watching the scales slip from her like a glove stripped from her forearms to reveal raw bone beneath. 

It is five twenty two in the morning. Jamie is fast asleep in the bedroom, and it is the first time Dani is truly present for one of Viola’s entire drawings. Dani forgets to breathe until she has finished. Viola drops the crayon to the table, and suddenly Dani is shuddering and scratching at the crawling sensation all over her hands and arms. The feeling doesn’t fade immediately. It lingers beneath her skin like a memory.

Viola has drawn a crown. Dani frowns in puzzlement down at the image. “What?”

Anger wells up in her chest, bitter as bile. She swallows it down and shakes her head.

"Why are you mad?" Dani asks, her scowl deepening. "Did I do something?"

Her left hand snatches up a crayon and draws the crown again. Twice. Each bigger than the last, and circled viciously so that it seemed they were drowning in a whirlpool.

"Uh -" says Dani. "Crown? Monarch? King? King?" She repeats when she has a sense of rightness when she had spoken the word. "We don't have a king. Oh! England! No, there's a - uh - a queen, now. Elizabeth II. Jesus, I'm playing charades with a ghost."

The last she mutters to herself, letting the page flutter down to the desk and lifting a hand to rub at her eyes. Behind her eyes she feels a stab of something indefinable. Like a dull headache. Or perhaps a lance of irritation.

Sighing, Dani says, “Can you just -” she lets her hand drop but keeps her eyes closed, “-be present while I read a newspaper? Or something?”

The feeling she gets in return is bruised. She winces, then gathers herself together and begins to clean up the mess.

* * *

It had never been like this with Eddie. She'd just always thought that she wasn't interested in it. Sex. It was something for other people. Her friends would whisper and laugh about the topic in high school, scandalised and intrigued in equal measure. But even after Dani had done the deed, it had seemed something of a letdown. She never got what the fuss was all about. 

At least, not until Jamie. 

Dani doesn't know what time it is, or what day it is. None of that matters when she's straddling Jamie, relishing the ache between her thighs and the burn of her knees against the mattress. Jamie's hands are gripping her waist, encouraging her movements, digging firmly into her skin without being demanding. The bedsprings give a creak of complaint beneath them, but neither pay the noise any attention. 

Maybe penetration had been the problem, she’d thought back then. Except now she gasps whenever she feels Jamie’s hips rise to meet her own, and the gentle curve to the toy makes her see stars. 

It’s the second round they’ve gone this night. Jamie had already warmed her up with mouth and tongue, thinking that Dani would need it, thinking that they might even abandon the idea of the harness entirely at the first hint that Dani didn’t like it. Only Dani does like it. She likes it a lot.

“Oh, fuck -” 

Dani has to bite her lower lip. They’re not going particularly hard or particularly fast, but the consistent pace -- the barely restrained urgency and the way Jamie is looking up at her as though she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing -- makes Dani’s hands clench the bedsheets between her fists on either side of Jamie’s head. When she groans and buries her head into Jamie’s neck, the change in angle wrenches a strangled noise in the back of Dani’s throat. 

Her loose hair falls into Jamie’s face, and they have to pause to brush it out of the way.

“Sorry,” Dani pants against Jamie’s shoulder, continuing to rock her hips.

“I don’t care,” Jamie says and her voice sounds strained. “I really don’t care.” 

This time when the rhythm builds again, the headboard taps against the walls and the whole bed seems to groan. Or perhaps that’s Dani. She can hear the way her breath is growing short and uneven, can feel Jamie’s arms snake around her back until she’s holding Dani in place atop her. She hears herself whine and has to choke down a hoarse cry when she comes, shuddering, her forehead pressed against Jamie’s shoulder. 

Dani trembles to a halt. She gasps for breath. Her thighs are wet and smeared. When she manages to sit up, the shaft still buried inside her makes her hiss.

“You all right?” Jamie asks. She gazes up at Dani with an expression of mixed wonder and concern.

Raking a hand through her hair -- strands sticking to her sweaty back and forehead -- Dani nods. She smooths her palms up Jamie’s stomach and brings them to rest against her breasts. 

“Yeah,” she breaths, “Yeah. I’m good. I’m -” Dani gives an experimental roll of her hips again, and a thrill goes skittering up her spine. That’s also new. The ability to just keep going. But there’s an insistence to continue, deep as a hunger. She squeezes her eyes shut and repeats the motion, then winces at a twinge in her knees. “Ow.”

Gently, Jamie pats her thigh. “C’mon. Up you get.” 

Dani replies with a whimper of complaint, but when she obliges -- lifting herself up and off -- Jamie merely takes the opportunity to roll them over and situate herself between Dani’s legs once more. 

“You’ve been riding me for twenty minutes,” Jamie says breathlessly, one hand slipping between them to guide the tip of the toy back into place. “Let me do some of the work.”

* * *

The year is 1993 and the summer is far warmer than it has any right to be in Vermont. They are going for a walk. Jamie's voice is a low soothing chatter in her ear, their hands brushing every so often. If there had been less people about, they might have let their fingers tangle together. As it is, Dani contents herself with the occasional bump of their shoulders, the way her fingertips skim against the exposed skin of Jamie's midriff, the exchange of smiling glances.

The sun sinks below the horizon, but still the sky is awash with saffron light. All the shops and cafes remain open at this time of year. It isn't often they have so many tourists come to town. People cluster around the outdoor seating that takes up most of the sidewalks. There are few enough cars that pedestrians can amble along the road without fear of passing vehicles. Everybody seems to walk in this town. Unless it's winter. And then nobody walks anywhere.

"I knew we should've kept the shop open," Jamie grumbles to herself when she sees a young couple pass them, one of them carrying a bouquet of flowers while her tall dark and handsome slings an arm around her shoulders. "Look at those roses. The state of them!"

"We just did that wedding last week," Dani reminds her. "We could close the shop for a month and still have funds left over."

"Yeah, I suppose."

With a rueful shake of her head, Dani tugs at Jamie's arm. "You work too much."

"It's how I keep myself honest," says Jamie. "What's that they say? Idle works are the devil's hands?"

As if to make a point, she gives Dani's flank a daring little pinch that makes Dani squeak. She shoots Jamie a warning look, but Jamie is grinning broadly at her. If they'd been in the privacy of their own home, Dani would've kissed the smile right off her smug face, but instead she narrows her eyes with all the promise of foul play later in the evening.

If anything, Jamie seems emboldened by this development. She clasps Dani's hand in her own and swings their arms in a broad arc as they walk. Dani lets her, but her gaze darts to people nearby.

Jamie lowers her voice and murmurs, "Nobody cares. You can relax."

Drawing in a deep breath, Dani nods. They continue on their way. And Jamie's right. Nobody cares. Nobody even spares them a parting glance. Dani can feel something itching between her shoulder blades all the same. She shrugs it away and gives Jamie’s fingers a squeeze. Jamie returns the gesture, shooting her a rakish wink as they walk.

It happens as they mosey past a shop. There are mannequins all dressed up in wares, their faces blank and white. Dani's steps slow, then stop. She feels Jamie falter beside her, tugging at her hand before coming to stand at her side.

Dani can see her own reflection in the glass. Her head hovers in a blur of light over the faceless mannequin, and the sundress hanging on the figure’s body has the most elegant drapery. 

"Did you bring your wallet?"

The sudden intrusion of Jamie's voice makes Dani jump. She blinks an odd sensation away from where it’s fizzing in her stomach like a pot of boiling water. "I -" she says with a curious frown, patting at the back pocket of her jeans. "Yes. I did."

Jamie nudges Dani’s shoulder with her own. “Go on, then. I know you want it. You’ve got that look on your face.”

Dani rolls her eyes, but glances back at the dress in the shop window. Her reflection has changed. Back to normal. No longer smeared and near unrecognisable. And yet the odd ache in her chest remains. “Yeah, all right. I’ll just be a sec.”

“Take your time. And let me know if you need help in the changing rooms,” says Jamie with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows.

Dani shoots her an admonishing look tempered with a grin, and enjoys the way Jamie smirks back at her. She buys the dress and wears it out of the shop, carrying her old clothes in the bag given to her by the lady at the counter. She walks out to find Jamie waiting for her, gilded in the setting sunlight. The dress has the drag of satin across her skin, and the bubbling feeling in Dani’s chest bids her take Jamie’s hand and tug her down the street, laughing at the surprised expression on Jamie’s face at her sudden boldness. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Jamie asks.

Dani just offers a shrug and a smile. “Nothing that wasn’t already there.”

“If you say so.” Jamie allows herself to be pulled along, darting forward to wrap an arm around the narrow of Dani’s waist and grinning at her. “You’ll hardly see me complaining.”

* * *

It’s the beginning of 1986, and Dani is being fitted for her wedding dress. She had always heard talk of picking out a dress of one’s own. She had even joined in on such topics of conversation under the assumption that she thought it was an opinion she ought to have. Truth be told, she had never given it much thought. She could never even imagine what her wedding day would look like.

Oh, of course, if asked she would give all sorts of descriptions. All of them things people expected her to say. 

She would have a bouquet of pink and white roses pinned between her fingers. She would wear ivory silk taffeta. She would have a train that aspired to be as long and magnificent as the Lady Diana’s, dragging behind her as if stretching from the altar to the exit. They would be married in the local church by the local priest with the local community gathered all around, spilling out from every pew. And she would be happy. She would be so blissfully happy.

The seamstress pinches some pale pink fabric between her hands, gathering it up into a pleat which she pins into place at Dani’s hemline. She is kneeling at Dani’s feet, and it is all Dani can do not to glance down. Dimly she can hear her mother and future mother-in-law talking in the background. Something about wedding dresses and bad taste in men. Eventually she can’t help herself and her eyes flick down.

The seamstress is wearing a loose-fitting sweater. Her head is bowed and her long black hair catches the light and seems to shine. As if sensing Dani’s gaze upon her, she looks up, and her eyes are dark shallows. She arches an eyebrow, and her mouth quirks in a clandestine smile as her fingers trail against the bare skin of Dani’s calf. 

Dani’s mouth goes dry, and she has to wrench her eyes back up to the mirror. There, her own reflection is staring back at her, face flushed, hands twisting together at her stomach as if trying to hold back some gnawing creature inside. 

She is still wearing the dress when she shows the seamstress out of the house a while later. Her mother and Judy have wandered off to the kitchen, leaving Dani and the seamstress in the shadow of the foyer. Their voices are distant and muddied through the walls. Dani twists the engagement ring around her finger as she watches the seamstress put on her shoes.

“Thank you,” Dani says abruptly. “For coming all this way. I really appreciate your time.”

The seamstress steadies herself on the wall with one hand while she slips her black kitten heels into place. “It’s no problem.”

“I know you don’t normally do house calls, is all. And it means a lot that you - you're -” 

Dani can’t finish the thought, not when all thought has flown straight out of her head. The seamstress has straightened and is watching her flounder with amusement.

Swallowing thickly, Dani takes a half step forward and says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

The seamstress’ smile is unmistakable now. “Lila.”

“Right.” Dani nods. She can’t seem to pull her eyes away. “Lila. Thank you.”

There’s a sort of terror that grips her when Lila takes a step closer and rises up on her toes to close the distance between them. It’s only to press a chaste kiss to Dani’s cheek and clasp her shoulders between warm hands, but it makes Dani’s heart race all the same. When Lila pulls away, the corners of their mouths brush, and Dani dares to touch the small of her waist. It’s a brief press of her hand against Lila’s flank, before they are pulling apart.

Dani bites at her lower lip until she feels it sting and Lila’s dark eyes fall to her mouth. For a wild fleeting moment, Dani thinks that Lila is going to lean forward again and kiss her properly this time -- and, God, Dani’s heart feels like it’s about to beat straight out of her chest at the mere notion -- but then Lila takes a step back.

“Good luck,” Lila says, opening the front door and striding down the brick steps that lead to the sidewalk.

Gripping the edge of the door in a white-knuckled grasp, Dani hovers at the entrance and watches her go. Lila turns to find her staring, and waves as she continues down the street. Dani doesn’t move even after Lila has rounded the corner and vanished from sight. It isn’t until she hears her name being called from the kitchen that she’s jerked back to the present. 

She shuts the door. And for hours later and well into the night, she carries in her stomach a coal-bright thing that curdles like acid and shame.

* * *

Or maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe it starts in 1998, when the phone of the florist's shop rings in the backroom. Jamie is out front, arguing with a supplier over the price of lilies no doubt. Dani can see the level of Jamie's frustration by her posture alone.

Setting down a bouquet she had been putting together, Dani walks into the backroom and picks up the receiver hanging from the wall.

"Hi, this is The Leafling. How can I help?"

On the other line there's silence, broken only by soft breathing.

She frowns. "Hello?"

"Danielle?"

The sound of that one word sends a chill rushing straight down Dani's spine. It feels like a bucket of ice water has been tipped right over her. Her free hand grasps the curled phone line as though it were a buoy keeping her afloat.

"Danielle, honey, is that you?" Judy, her almost mother-in-law, says down the line.

Dani's mouth opens, but she chokes on a reply. All the breath seems to have rushed from her lungs. The air is heavy. A weight presses down on her chest, until she's dizzy. Something squeezes her throat, like two hands gripping the hilt of a sword tight, and then a low, foreign voice rasps from her own mouth.

"I am terribly sorry," Dani hears herself speak as if from a great distance. "You seem to have mistaken me for someone else."

"Oh -" Judy sounds startled. "Oh, I'm - I'm sorry! I thought - You know what? It doesn't matter. I must have rung the wrong number."

"Yes," the voice says again in a crisp and cultured tone. "Yes, you have. Goodbye, madame. Please refrain from calling again."

Judy's reply is lost as Dani's arm mechanically reaches out and hangs the receiver back on its mount. She is hyper aware of the slide of muscle beneath her skin, tendon and ligament clinging to hard, slick bone. She stares at the dull scratched plastic phone and her eyes burn. Dani blinks for the first time in minutes, and all at once the world comes crashing down around her.

Her breath starts off again in short sharp gasps, rising in tempo until she is crouched over, leaning her weight on her thighs and panting between her knees. She doesn't know how she ends up sitting on the floor with her back curled up to the wall, but suddenly she is cradling her head in her hands and staring at her scuffed white sneakers.

Fingers shaking, Dani turns over her wrist. It is 10:33 in the morning, she tells herself. It is the sixth of March 1998. And she is afraid to move for fear of feeling -- once again -- like a stranger in her own body. As if she were pulling strings and watching the limbs jerk in response.

A bell in the front room of the shop rings, accompanied by the sound of the door opening and closing.

"You would not believe what that arsehole wanted to charge for a few buckets of these!" Jamie announces in the other room. Her footsteps shuffle around, and there's the sound of something scraping across the floor as she hauls things into place. “Oi! Poppins! Where’d you run off to?”

Dani couldn’t speak. She opens her mouth but immediately shuts it again. Something vile wells up in her throat, tasting like old muddy water. Keeping it inside is poison, but allowing it to escape would have flooded the room until the windows cracked and the streets ran like rivers.

It doesn’t take long for Jamie to find her. Some small irrational part of her hopes that Jamie will continue about her day without ever stumbling across Dani at all. Existing as though Dani had never been there in the first place. Of course, that doesn’t happen. Of course, Jamie keeps looking.

_ “Jesus,  _ Dani, are you all right?”

And, of course, Jamie is there. She kneels at Dani’s feet and knows better than to touch her right away, though her hands hover over Dani in a silent inquiry for permission. 

“What happened?”

Dani trembles all over. She shakes her head, and swallows, and keeps her teeth clamped firmly shut.

With a puzzled expression, Jamie’s eyes flicker around, seeking out any hint that might tell her what transpired. She alights upon the telephone, and whatever she sees there makes her face pale.

“I’m guessing someone called?”

Dani nods curtly. She works to get her breathing back under control, but it is difficult when she can’t open her mouth for fear of what might come pouring out.

“Can I touch you, yet?”

Shrinking back, Dani shakes her head.

“All right.” Jamie sits cross-legged on the ground, close enough that Dani could reach out and feel her if she wanted, but far enough away that they would not accidentally brush up against one another. “You’re luckily I like guessing games. And I’ll have you know I am great at charades.”

Dani’s chest tightens like a clenched fist at the huff of surprised laughter that gathers in her lungs.

Jamie holds up one hand. “How many syllables? Blink when I hit the right number. Three? Okay. That’s the bank right out. The Wingraves? No, that’s not it either. Not Owen, was it? Right. Family? Oh, we’re getting warmer, now. I reckon by the wrinkle of your nose it was someone from your dark and twisted past, too. Any other ghosts you need me to thrash for you? ‘Cause I’ve been doing a lot of research, y’know. I’m basically a qualified spirit-smacker at this point. These hands? Punch into the fourth dimension, they do.”

Dani doesn’t know whether she wants to laugh or cry. Or both. Possibly both. Her mouth curls in a smile, but her eyes burn. Slowly something uncoils in her stomach, as though her entrails had wrapped around her other organs and had been attempting to strangle her from within.

“There you are,” Jamie says softly. “Welcome back, love.”

Maybe it’s purely because Jamie must have seen it -- what  _ ‘it’  _ was -- but this time when Dani opens her mouth, she doesn’t feel like she’s going to be sick all over her shoes. She manages to croak out, “It was her.”

“Who?”

“No, I mean -” Closing her eyes, Dani shakes her head. “Judy called. My -- uh -- Eddie’s mother.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Jamie says, “Must’ve been a shock -”

“No, that wasn’t it. I - I panicked. Didn’t know what to say, and I just completely blanked, and then when I spoke -” Suddenly, Dani has to swallow back a dry heave. Her hand flies up to her mouth.

“Listen, Poppins,” Jamie starts to say in that soothing tone of hers. “Whatever you said doesn’t matter. I’m sure she just misses you.”

Dani is shaking her head. “I didn’t. I didn’t say anything.  _ She  _ did.” When all Jamie does is stare at her in unblinking confusion, Dani points to her own chest and repeats, “I was here, but I wasn’t speaking.  _ She was.”  _

Realisation dawns on Jamie’s face, and she leans back slightly. Her lips purse in thought, and then she asks, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, what did she say?”

Dani blinks. She flounders for a reply. “I - She - She told Judy she had the wrong person and to not call back.”

For a moment, Jamie just stares at her. Then, she gives an abortive little chuff of laughter. “You mean -” she says with an incredulous smile, “- Your ghost told your ex’s mum to fuck off? Are you telling me that the first words the Lady Viola Lloyd has spoken in four hundred years were:  _ ‘Piss off, twat?’” _

“Wh -? No!” says Dani indignantly. “She was much more polite about it than that!”

“Pull the other one, it’s got bells on.”

Dani gives her a long, level look.

“You’re serious? You’re serious.” Jamie snorts and has to bite her lower lip. “Oh, that’s brilliant. Can she come back for a minute?”

Dani crinkles her nose. “Why?”

Jamie’s grin splits her face nearly in two. “So, I can kiss her as  thanks .”

Whatever expression crosses Dani’s face makes Jamie burst out with laughter. 

* * *

Dani's hair clings to her neck and shoulders. It is wet and honey-darkened. She pins a white towel at her chest between her fingers. The air of the bathroom is clouded from her recent shower. She is alone, standing before the sink, gathering her courage in her teeth and straightening back her bare shoulders.

The mirror over the sink is completely obscured with steam. She can see nothing of herself within it apart from the dark suggestion of a shape. Drip of warm water down her spine. It trails like the touch of a finger running from her neck. For a long moment, Dani does little more than chew at her lower lip, worrying it red between her teeth.

Then, abruptly, she smears her palm across the mirror in a movement that is quick and sharp. Her skin squeaks faintly against the glass, and in the wake of her hand she leaves a streak of reflection through which her own pale face peers.

There are dark circles beneath her eyes. It is 1998. Roughly seven thirty in the morning. Or so she thinks. It had been seven fifteen when she went to take a shower, and it had only felt like the passage of a quarter of an hour or so, but there are no clocks in this room. Her golden wristwatch is atop a dresser in the bedroom beyond. Time is fickle these days. The nights are longer, darker. Sometimes she finds herself losing track of the minutes, the hours, the days.

Is it 1998? Yes, it is. She's sure it is. She looks about that age. Dani searches her own scowling reflection for answers. Her eyes even dart to the space over her shoulder, as though an old ghost might linger there -- she has not seen him for years. Not since Bly. Not even after she had met for a tentative cup of coffee with Judy in Iowa, the two of them treading cautiously around one another as if holding handfuls of fine and ancient china, waiting for the other to pull the rug out from beneath them.

But Judy had seen the ring on Dani's finger, and her eyes had welled with tears, and -- God, she'd even hugged her.

_ ‘You look happy. I'm so glad. You look so happy.’ _

Looking at herself now, Dani thinks she only looks tired.

The mirror begins to mist up again. Steam creeps across the surface like white mold, obscuring her features until her eyes are dark charcoal smudges. She wipes the same path across the mirror with her hand again, and this time Viola stares back.

"Jesus Christ," Dani gasps with a start. She nearly drops the towel and has to clasp it to her breast with a white-knuckled grasp. "Do you have to be so dramatic every time?"

Viola does not answer. Over the years her face has regained some of its features. Or at least what Dani had assumed were her original features. She has eyes now. There are small blemishes on her skin. But her mouth is as pale and bloodless as ever, and when she smiles her teeth seem too sharp.

Dani wrinkles her nose. "Very funny. Yeah. So -" she rakes a hand through her wet hair with one hand "- are we going to actually talk this time?"

Viola does not ever seem to blink like this. Her gaze is steady and steadfast. Like a snake. Like a gorgon. And some days, Dani feels like her insides are slowly turning to stone.

"You know, if you kill me, this is all over, right? You know that? No more food. Or long showers. Or -" Dani flutters her fingers "- Jamie. That all goes away if I'm gone. Because that was the deal. It's not just you. It's me. It's -- Don't give me that look."

Viola has never been particularly expressive. Usually, Dani only ever gets rare glimpses of her, snatches of a vision of the Lady Lloyd of Bly. As though she is back at the manor, walking up one side of the staircase, the bannister's silky wood grain sliding beneath her hand, passing by an oft-forgotten painting yellowed with age and varnish.

Now, however, Viola's expression seems hard. Her jaw is squared. There is something like emotion in her face. If Dani had to call it anything, she'd say it was pure mulishness. And she should know. She used to teach ten year olds.

"You get to stay, because I said so. Because I let you in. You don't just get to take and take and -- that's not how this works. All right?" Dani shifts uncomfortably beneath Viola's unyielding stare. "And I know you like this. Secretly. You like remembering. You like living again. Sort of. So, let's just, agree to - to play nice."

It is unnerving when her reflection does not mimic her actions. Dani's tongue darts out to nervously wet her lower lip, but Viola is still as a statue, a silent watcher, skin-deep.

"Yeah, this conversation usually goes better when I'm talking to a ten year old about sharing their pencils," Dani sighs. She makes sure the towel is carefully tucked beneath her arms, and scrubs at her face with her hands. She groans, her voice muffled, "For the record, I am not a toy. And if this is going to continue to work, you have to talk to me. I can't help you if I don't know what you want. I don’t want to slip away. I won’t. I won’t go. And you can't just keep -"

There's a crash, and Dani nearly jumps out of her own skin. She leaps back a step. When she looks down, it's to find that the soap dispenser has been pushed onto the ground, where it cracked against the tiles.

"Why did you -?" Dani starts to say, but stops.

Viola is watching her from the mirror. She holds up her hand and crooks her finger to beckon Dani closer. Swallowing against a sudden burr in her throat, Dani shoots an anxious glance over her shoulder, as though afraid Jamie were suddenly standing there. But Jamie is downstairs opening the shop for the morning, and Dani is still alone.

Slowly, Dani steps forward. She leans closer to the mirror, but Viola gestures her closer until her breath mists the surface of the glass. Viola’s mouth opens and Dani feels her own mouth moving, air working up her throat, and her lips brush against the cold reflection as Viola’s voice rasps through her:

_ “‘Till death us depart.” _

Face screwing up in confusion, Dani leans back. She has to clear the odd feeling from her throat of Viola using her body to speak -- she will never get used to that, not if she lived a hundred years -- and her hand wanders up her neck, fingertips tracing her lower lip. 

“What was that? A wedding vow?” Dani says it like it’s a joke, but Viola just arches an eyebrow at her. Dani blinks and stumbles over words. “Oh. Uh - Well, I -”

She can faintly hear the creak of hinges as the front door of the apartment opens, and Jamie’s voice yells out, echoing down the hallway, “C’mon, Dani! I could use some help! Got a massive order already, and this one’s a real bridezilla! All hands on deck!”

Dani shouts over her shoulder, “Just - Just a minute!”

And when she turns back to the mirror, Viola is gone. 

* * *

Dani twists a dial on the stove. A series of clicks and a circle of little flames leap to life. She sets the kettle over them. Outside dawn is a faint suggestion on the horizon. She has left the lights off throughout the apartment, navigating instead by touch and memory.

A quick trip downstairs and she brings back up that morning's paper to read while the water boils. She leans her elbows against the kitchen island and unfolds the roll to reveal the first page.

Dani blinks at the headline. For a moment she thinks that perhaps her eyes have simply not adjusted to the darkness, but then she re-reads the bold font. Twelve children and a bloodbath at a school called Columbine.

It's five thirteen in the morning of April 21st 1999. Dani allows herself to scan the first few lines before she folds the newspaper back up and pushes it away. She scrubs at her face with her hands and fights back the pang of regret for not going back into teaching. It's just that Viola still isn't wholly herself around children of a certain age and likeness. Or perhaps she's too much herself, is the problem. And it's getting better -- every day, one day at a time it's getting better -- but sometimes those little hiccups remain.

Behind her the kettle begins to emit a low whine. She straightens and removes it from the heat, her other hand killing the flame. It takes another three minutes for the tea to steep. She lets Viola be the judge. Lets Viola reach for the teabags and the mugs, while Dani tries not to think too hard about how much she'd always wished she could make a difference in some kids' lives. Just a small thing. Even the smallest. At least it would be something.

Some days Viola is abuzz beneath her skin, thrumming like a second heartbeat. Some days Viola hisses wordless sounds in her ear, and Dani swears she can feel the lap of a tongue high and forked against her cheek. Today, Viola is a well. A long, dark, and dripping drop into nothing. Or maybe that's Dani, and Viola is the one reeling up the rope today, hoping to drag her back from her own thoughts.

Dani has lost track of time, when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She starts with a small noise at the back of her throat, but she is still alone in the kitchen. Two mugs of tea steam gently on the bench before her. She picks them up and carries them into the bedroom, her feet shuffling along the wooden floor boards.

Jamie is a misshapen lump on the mattress. Her wild tangle of hair is barely visible beneath the covers. Dani approaches Jamie's side of the bed, but pauses over the cluttered little side table. At a momentary loss, she stands there with her hands full, glancing around for a coaster. Then, one of the books on 17th century history -- one of many -- is pushed by an invisible hand, and the coaster beneath slides into view. 

"Thanks," Dani murmurs, setting the tea down on the coaster.

"Hnn?" Jamie’s head twitches. She blinks blearily from her pillow up at Dani.

“Not you.” Dani leans down to kiss Jamie’s cheek and relish the warmth of her skin. 

Jamie makes a contented noise, her cheek twitching beneath Dani’s lips. “Time is it?”

“Early.” Dani stands and rounds the bed to slip beneath the covers on her own side, tea in hand. She is careful not to spill anything even when Jamie rolls over and flings an arm around her legs, snuggling up against her waist. “Your tea is going to go cold.”

Jamie mumbles something unintelligible. With one hand Dani slips her fingers into Jamie’s dark curls and drags her nails gently against Jamie’s scalp. Soon, Jamie will be fast asleep again. She will chide Dani for letting her sleep in when they should’ve been opening the shop, but Dani can’t bring herself to rouse her. Not today. Instead, Dani sips at her tea in the still silence of their bedroom, the early morning light breaking through the window with flossy rays, and allows herself to be warmed on all sides. 

* * *

Dani has packed too many clothes, and Jamie has packed too few. They are in California, staying at a hotel that is far nicer than the ones they would have used years ago during one of their many road trips across the country. It's a special occasion. It's also the only halfway decent hotel near the venue, and there are scant other options.

The room is painfully grey, a fact which has Jamie grumbling to herself in the other room. Something about if a spot of colour would kill anyone, or if the hotel designers really just had a vendetta against saturation when they made this place. Dani smiles affectionately into the bathroom mirror as she listens. She winds up the hair dryer and sets it down in favour of running her fingers through her hair.

There's far more grey at her temples than she had ever expected to see. She is surprised she has lived as long as this. Truth be told, of the two of them Jamie is the one who's had a closer brush with death since their days at Bly. Somehow she'd gotten it into her head that buying and renovating a classic motorcycle would be a fantastic idea. And that riding around on said motorcycle would knock five years off her age. Instead Jamie had been the one to get knocked off, sent sprawling across the rain-slicked bitumen. Dani had gotten the call from the hospital, and it had felt as though the earth gave way beneath her feet to swallow her whole.

But that had been four years ago. All Jamie has to show for it now is scarring all up the right side of her torso and shoulder, and a slight limp when the weather grows too cold. She had insisted upon keeping the motorcycle.  _ What's the point of having a garage,  _ she'd said,  _ if one of us isn't going to put some good honest diesel in it? _

Just as Dani's heading back into the bedroom to get dressed, Jamie slips by her into the shared bathroom to do her makeup. Her hair had gone almost completely silver right around the time she had decided to buy that death trap. One probably had a direct correlation to the other, though Jamie would deny it until the end of her days.

"Blimey, are you not even dressed yet?"

"I'm going. I'm going," Dani assures her.

"It's a twenty minute drive, remember."

"We're fine. Stop fussing."

Jamie is mollified, but only because Dani kisses her cheek and dares to briefly explore the curve of her ass in that outfit.

"We really will be late if you keep that up," says Jamie, though her eyes gleam and wander down the complementary bathrobe Dani is still swaddled up in.

Dani points a finger at her. "Don't you dare. I just finished my hair and makeup."

"Your face is safe. My face, however -"

Dani stops her mouth with a kiss. "Is very distracting, yes. I know."

"I was going to say  _ 'sittable.' _ But sure."

With a snort of laughter, Dani continues on her way. Behind her she can hear Jamie not moving for a long moment, until the sound of her heels clack against the tiles. Nearing the uncomfortable chair in the corner, Dani begins to paw through her suitcase. The one she'd brought just for dresses.

Dimly she can remember a time when she used to pack light. That person seems almost a stranger now. A lost, doe-eyed thing wandering through foreign lands in the hopes of -- well. In the hopes of being in foreign lands, and naught much else. That Dani had carried her worldly belongings in two bags that she could easily haul onto a train or an aircraft. This Dani requires an entirely separate hardcase for her dresses.

She can hardly complain. It's a wedding. And a rehearsal dinner before that. The kids aren’t kids anymore. Most startling of all however, is that they don’t recognise her as  _ her.  _ Dani is known to them only as their old gardener’s wife. The invitation had arrived in the mail addressed to Jamie with Dani's name tacked on like an afterthought. 'Danielle' had been written in a loopy scrawl. Flora had called her many things at Bly, but never that.

Time had changed them, as it had changed so many things. And if all Dani could complain about was an odd and sudden penchant for luxurious fabrics against her bare skin, then life was good.

Her hand savours textures. She lets her fingers drift from outfit to outfit until something arches its back beneath her sternum and curls against her ribcage in muzzy satisfaction. Dani pulls the dress out and lays it across the rumpled bed sheets. It is a length of green against the grey blankets. She and Jamie will be a matching set. Like a pair of handsome footmen. Or perhaps shoes.

Dani unbelts the robe at her waist and drops it to the floor. She gets dressed without haste, taking her time, pulling up the straps of her bra around her shoulders, stepping into a sheath of velvet that makes her silent passenger all but preen beneath the surface. Across the room, she catches sight of herself in a mirror as she's slipping her feet into a pair of heels. Viola peers back at her. She seems far more elegant in this outfit than Dani herself, which makes sense of course. She'd been the one to pick it, after all. And Jamie's -- though Jamie did not know that.

Whereas the corners of Dani's eyes are creased with the years, Viola looks the same as ever. She appears in blacks and whites, at home amongst all this grey. It's like looking through a telescope and into a distant scene that's been drained of all colour.

She makes eye contact with Dani, and pointedly tucks her hair behind her ear. Without question, Dani reaches up and fixes a fly-away strand that had escaped from the hairspray.

"Honestly," Jamie emerges from the bathroom with a huff of faux irritation. Her hands are busy fixing an earring into place. "If you take any longer, we'll witness the heat death of the universe."

"I understand practice dinners are the same thing."

Jamie's mouth curls in a smile. She lowers her hands and nods towards Dani. "Need help with the zipper?"

"Please."

Jamie crosses the room to stand behind her. Clever fingers make quick work of the back of her dress, and Jamie's touch lingers at the v-shaped exposure of skin along Dani's spine. Using the mirror, she watches Jamie affectionately. The way she moves. The iron-coloured sweep of her hair. 

A familiar shadowy shape stands behind them. Jamie glances up and catches them both looking.

“Should’ve taken me up on my offer before I did my makeup,” Jamie says, even as she bends forward to place a kiss at Dani’s neck. 

With a hum, Dani tilts her head to one side and Jamie trails down to her shoulder. It’s been years -- years more than she should have had -- and there never fails to be a thrill of warmth pooling in her stomach when Jamie looks at her like that. Viola watches them from a frame of glass, and when Dani opens her mouth, both of them speak. “We have time.”

And this -- she realises -- this is when it really begins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the end? Yeah, it's the end. Unless my muse grabs me by the throat and drags me back to this story. idk.


End file.
